The Sith Who Stole My Heart: A Star Wars Story
by Christygreen
Summary: The galaxy is in shreds, Palpatine is in control of the prospering Empire, AND Padme finds herself under the radar of the galaxy's most feared force, Darth Vader. Padme and and Vader have never met. Vadmé, AU
1. Announcements

**STARTING FROM TODAY, ANY AND EVERY MAJOR ANNOUNCEMENT ALONG WITH GUEST REPLIES WILL BE SEEN HERE.**

 **IT SHALL BE UPDATED REGULARLY, SO BE SURE TO CHECK BACK FOR IMPROVEMENTS.**

 **Thank you.**

 **I originally planned to update every two weeks, but, since I write primarily on Wattpad, dual posting wasn't working for me at all, so several chapters will be posted in rapid succession until I catch up. Updates will then be uploaded at the same time I upload on Wattpad.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Also be aware that since this story is original to Wattpad, there may be some author's notes that may be confusing, but I intended to gradually fix that, along with the fact that from the device I am using, page breaks do not exist.**

 **UPDATES:**

 **Since this story isn't perfect and I feel like I was disappointed in some of the chapters, when this story is finished, I intend to rewrite those chapters. The storyline will not be greatly affected, and most conversations not radically changed, but hopefully more vibrant and beautiful. What can I say? I'm an artist, and I want to paint a perfect picture in your head.**

 **ERRORS:**

 **I'm not perfect. I make mistakes, and it bothers me greatly when I have mistakes. Therefore, I would greatly appreciate if you would let me know whenever I have errors. Even this story is finished, I intend to continue editing. Thank you for you help and critical eyes.**

 **CONSISTENCY:**

 **Originally, I started this story when I was around thirteen, creating very prettily-described but difficult to write first chapters. I all but forgot it for the next few months, along with Wattpad, and seeing that there was no real interest in it, it was far from an top priority to me. When I rediscovered it, I was struck by how much I liked it, a sought to continue it. However, it took great effort to create similar to those first few chapters, and I constantly disappointed myself.**

 **Recently, I re-read my later chapters and was surprised at how much I liked them. Since it was a while since my first two chapters, my writing is different, and there are some subtle changes in the characters behavior. Some of you may have noticed more backbone in Padmé and calmness in Vader, which comes over time. Thus, I have decided to make the first two chapters the Prologue, placing a year between then and now. I am happy with the routine of writing I am now in, able to produce faster and longer (5,000 - 7,800) chapters.**

 **I hope that you will accept my writing as I am now. I do advise re-reading for better understanding, as some thing have been edited, added and removed. Thank you.**

 **SEXUAL CONTENT:**

 **Some of you may be wondering wether or not there will be actual sexual scenes in my story. Since I am of young age myself, I have never truly experienced such things myself and do not intend to until marriage, (which will be a looong time. Do try to control your disappointment boys). Therefore, I have no intention to put actual sexual scenes in my story. Mastering the authenticity of it would be difficult, and I prefer to be able to cater to a larger genre of people, who would be able to read without guilt or shame of inappropriateness. Of course there will be romance, and bit of steaminess, but that actual scenes will not be featured. I hope you will be able to enjoy the story just the same. HOWEVER, if some of the steaminess and underlying sensuality makes you uncomfortable, check out the more innocent version available on my page.**

 **PAST TENSE, PRESENT TENSE, AND FUTURE TENSE:**

 **I have a rather bizarre way of writing, some of my sentences seeming like fragments, and some scenes (~), using an strict present tense, while other times it drifted towards an mix of past/present, even drifting back and forth. I do it this way because it sounds better, creating a kaleidoscope of mental paintings you all know as The Sith Who Stole My Heart.**

 **SWEARING:**

 **I have been raised in a way that swearing was never a practice, and was always prohibited.**

 **I don't believe in swearing. It make things more difficult to enjoy, and you are not able to share it with others around you. I don't care for the inconvenience, and neither wish to burden others with it. But since the characters of the STAR WARS world have no such convictions, will be an absolute minimal to no swearing, and if so, it would be in a STAR WARS tongue. If you Google it, it's on you completely.**

 **Reason:**

 **You must let no foul word come out of your mouth, but only what is beneficial for the building up of the one in need, that it may give grace to those who hear. - Ephesians 4:29**

 **But now, put off all things as anger, rage, malice, slander, and foul/abusive language from your mouth. - Colossians 3:8**

 **DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to George Lucas. I simply make them awesome.**

 **NOTE: I TAKE NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR SUICIDAL OR MURDEROUS THOUGHTS THAT MAY COME FROM LACK OF UPDATES OR CLIFFHANGERS. THIS STORY IT NOT MEANT TO GENERATE ANGER OF ANY KIND, ALTHOUGH YOU MAY OR MAY NOT WANT TO KILL ME SOMETIMES.**

 **SIDE AFFECT INCLUDES: ANGER, SUICIDE, TEARS, SADNESS, EXASPERATION, PHONE THROWING, SCREAMING AT PHONE, TABLET THROWING, LAPTOP THROWING, COMPUTER THROWING, SWOONING, CRINGING, INACTIVITY AND FAILED SCHOOL TESTS DUE LOSS OF SLEEP, TIRED EYES, OR STARWARS OBSESSION.**


	2. Timeline

I found that many people have been confused with my story and it's setting, so I have decided to make it easier to understand.

In this story, the prequels are **NOT** cannon.

Vader is twenty-six and Padmé is twenty-four.

Also, Vader and Padmé have never met.

Rating: Rated T for some some disturbing and dark scenes.

I only ship Padmé and Anakin. Sorry. That was the was the way it was supposed to be, that is the the way it was meant to be, and that's the way it's going to be.

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A long time ago, in a galaxy, far, far, away...

Anakin Skywalker was halfway through fourteen when the Imperial ships landed on the small planet of Tatooine, killing his mother and taking him to a life of hardship.

Two years later, Padmé Amidala was made queen.

Soon after her twenty-first birthday, the republic failed, giving way to the Empire, which had been being created behind the scene by some unseeable force.

Senators Bail Organa and Mon Mothma, having has seen the oncoming doom, assembled other senators of like causes to them and rallying and soon needed rebellion, of which Padmé joined.

Almost two years after the establishment of the Empire, she sees Vader with her own eyes the first time.

A year after, she meets him again, this time personally, and without the knowledge of his true identity.

A friendship full of oddity and sexual tension between a rebel and imperial blossoms.

But as time goes along and she grows ever closer to this human enigma incarnation, deception, irony, and the shroud of Dark Side does as well, until all is finally revealed.

The results, and their coming-abouts, are for you to discover.

For as they say, you'll just have to find out, won't you?


	3. GUEST REVIEW ANSWERS & REPLIES

**So, basically, as the title states, this will be where I answer all of your guest reviews, as I can't, of course, answer through DMs. Let's get right to it!**

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 **To The Guest Who Said:** **love this story so far! However Im a bit confused- when did Skywalker and Padme agree to go to Naboo together? Ive reread the chapter and dont see any mention of it, yet Skywalker shows up in her room and is like we agreed to go to Naboo ?**

 **From The Author Who Said:** I suggest looking back at chapter thirteen, which had previously been mixed up, sorry 'bout that.

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 **To The Guest Who Said: The freezer plotline was insensitive towards vegetarians.**

 **From The Author Who Said:** Your going to hate me for saying this, and, with no offense intended to you, but when I first heard this I burst out laughing so hard I shed tears. I had excepted comments, especially on , ranging from amazingly supportive to legitimately crazy to downright hateful. But this comment was so unexpected it completely blindsided me.

The last thing I expected someone to say about that scene in particular was that it was insensitive to _vegetarians._ I'm actually a bit confused how it was. It wasn't like they intended to eat the woman, rather to preserve the body, which now that I think about it, they should have called that night rather Han taking it and putting it an fridge, as that would be infinitely suspicious. Maybe the fact that there was a meat shop in the first place? But I don't think that's it, as, let's face it, we live in a real world, where meat shops exist. Like, for real, and I don't want to think that this is just a butthurt comment, and just quietly surrender with a laugh and a okay.

I couldn't care less for Vegans and their actual beef coming at me, but since this was by someone who reads this story, I apologize if I offended you.

 _However that happened, anyway._

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 **To The Guest Who Said: A great chapter !**

 **From The Author Who Said:** Why thank you, Lou!

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 **To The Guest Who Said: please please please update i love this story soooo much!**

 **From The Author Who Said:** I promise, because of people like you, and your lovely support, the updates will continue to come.

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 **To The Guest Who Said:** **Such a great story, I hope you'll update soon :)**

 **From The Author Who Said:** Thanks Camille, I sure intend to.

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 **To The Guest Who Said:** **i love the scary and dangerous aspect of vader in this story, particularly during the romance**

 **From The Author Who Said:** Ermahgoodnesh, me too. It's like my favorite to write those scenes and then read back them under my covers like a little hermit.

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 **To The Guest Who Said:** **love love love this**

 **From The Author Who Said:** Awe, shanks.

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 **To The Guest Who Said:** **Awesome work! Loved Padmd's meetings with Vader. Also. Padme's snacking is so relatable. XD**

 **From The Author Who Said:** Ikr? After I was done I got so mad I didn't have any gummy bears. I actually had some today, though. Currently working on a chicken pot pie. :)

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 ** **To The Guest Who Said:** Loving this story! You're doing a really good job :)**

 **From The Author Who Said:** Thanks. It's so nice o hear someone say you did a good job.

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 ** **To The Guest Who Said:** I don't think your chapters are getting worse. I think they are improving. I enjoy reading about this side of Vader. I enjoy reading about their political banters. Keep writing!**

 **From The Author Who Said:** Thank you so much for you support even when I doubted myself.

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 ** **To The Guest Who Said:** Amazing chapter! I loved Padme and Vader's scene at the Opera! So cool contrasting it with their end scene. Great work. 3**

 **From The Author Who Said:** I'm so happy you liked how it turned out. I would hate it if you were disappointed. That was my personal favorite chapter.

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 ** **To The Guest Who Said:** Excellent chapter!I liked the Admiral's description of the lines ''I hate you'' and ''I hate you more had me laughing myself silly**

 **From The Author Who Said:** I had so much fun writing that scene. I literally just let my fingers fly on thier own, enjoying the humous scene.

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 ** **To The Guest Who Said:** Loooove this! She's going to end up trapping him before he even realizes it, he's already so intrigued by her. And methinks she will rethink her no romances position eventually after getting over the shock of Vader mystery opera man. ****Smart, fun story. Can't wait to see where it goes next.**

 **From The Author Who Said:** He sees a young woman he can manipulate to his will.

She sees a young man wounds she can heal.

So he indulges for her, knowing the endgame, slowly falling deeper into her our without realizing it.

So she blindly lets him unravel her, and as he engraves himself in her, she realizes she loves him.

I can't wait either.

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 ** **To The Guest Who Said:** Love it! Please update**

 **From The Author Who Said:** I sure intend to! :)

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 ** **To The Guest Who Said:** Wonderful!One thing confused me Vader satisfied with his lot in life or not?Does he hate the Emperor or not?In the first chapter I was sure of it but now you've got me it is a great story update it soon if you can**

 **From The Author Who Said:** Seven words.

We'll have to just see, now won't we?

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 ** **To The Guests Who Said:** Fantastic!**

 **And**

 **Great!**

 **From The Author Who Said:** I'm happy you think so.

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 ** **To The Guest Who Said:** Great opening and intro to this version of the characters**

 **From The Author Who Said:** Thank you. Even at the age of twelve- _almost_ thirteen, I was determinded to make it perfect.

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 ** **To The Guest Who Said:** This is a great story but I'm slightly confused. **

**1\. What happened to Luke and Leia?  
2\. Are the prequels cannon in this story?  
3\. Wouldn't Darth Vader be able to feel Padme's presence?  
4\. What happened to Obi-Won?  
I know this is a lot of questions, but I'm hoping you can answer them.**

 **From The Author Who Said:** Well, Nyla The Lion, it was questions like this on and Wattpad that sparked my desire to write the chapter titled 'Timeline,' seeing as a few didn't seem to understand what the heck was going on. I hope that answers all questions you have.

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 ** **To The Guest Who Said:** Interesting beginning! Keep on writing!**

 **From The Author Who Said:** You can be sure I will. ;)

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 **FROM THE AUTHOUR WHO SAID:**

 **So leave me anymore questions and I promise to answer it, right here! Hope to hear from you guys soon!**


	4. I: Broken And Enslaved Prologue Pt:I

**Chapter One: Broken And Enslaved**

 **A/N: Okay so... Hello. Please go easy on me y'all this is my first fic. I have so many awesome stories in my mind, BUT that's where they tend to stay. So! I have finally decided to take action. I want to establish a pattern to have a few chapters already done, but I don't update them immediately until I have written a few, then a glorious burst of chapters. (lol, yah I'm evil) So yeah. Please review! They mean a lot to me, being new and all... so tell me how I'm doing! Any criticism is appreciated. I will also appreciate anyone's ideas of how the story should turn out. I'm the kind like, "Sure! I think we squeeze a hot tub scene in there, Maybe, there's too much going on right now, but heck, I can write that in another story I was thinking about writing!" Kind of stuff like that.**

 **NOTE: This story I originally posted on , which you can view for free online at the site, or with the free Wattpad app.**

 **I think the beginning is gonna be really slow, so bear with me. I didn't really want to rush into the plot, and since I'm new I could use u guys to help me out. So...Enjoy...I guess...?**

 **The characters will NOT be exactly like they are in the movie, but it's my story so I can do whatever I want.**

 **Ps. I swear I will not give up on the story cause I just hate that and couldn't put you guys through that too. If you like it, that is.**

 **P.Ps. Also a shoutout my favorite writer/stories on (of course in progress): Naboo rose by Girlbender875, and Vader's Angel by wertman25 I love you both! You guys are awesome!**

 **Summary: The galaxy is in shreds, Palpatine is in control of the prospering Empire, AND Padme finds herself under the radar of the galaxy's most feared force, Darth Vader.**

 **Rating: Rated T for some some disturbing and dark scenes.**

 **PPPS. I only ship Padmé and Anakin. Sorry. That was the was the way it was supposed to be, that is the the way it was meant to be, and that's the way it's going to be.**

 **After all that...Enjoy!**

He couldn't breathe. The stench of his burnt cloak cloak burned his nose. His brain felt fried, and he knew that it most likely had been. He couldn't think. How could he? His whole body ached. His skin was on fire. There was no end to his torture. He couldn't see. He couldn't save himself. But he could feel. And at this moment he wished he couldn't. He curled inwards, panting, trying, desperately to heal himself. To let his body heal. Trying to recover. But not really. No, he was already bracing himself for the next blow. And there would be another. And another. There would be several more. He just needed a moment. Just one more moment to heal himself.

But his Master was having none of that.

A surge of Force lighting him. Vader tried. He tried to block it out. But it was too much. It was all to much. He couldn't, he tried so hard, but he didn't have the energy to stop it. A scream escaped his lips as the pain tore through his body. He hadn't mastered it yet. After all the countless beating and endless, grueling, brutal things he had been forced to endure, he hadn't ever been able to control this. He could endure other things, and show no indication of any pain, physical or mental. But this, this was different. He wouldn't crack. He couldn't. He couldn't show that anything he said effected him. He would never give his Master the gratification of breaking him. But this, this wasn't something he could control.

This was his life. He went though it almost every day. And it hurt. So, so much. He couldn't stop the screams. But he could think just a little. Now, as the lighting stopped, he could process one thought. Or idea. He looked up through reddish-yellow eyes fringed with long dark blonde eyelashes, (which had they not been the vicious color of the Sith would have been pretty) and thought, no, not thought, felt, with every fiber of his being, I hate you.

"Lord Vader, you disappoint me. I would have thought you better than this, rolling around the floor whining and crying. It's shameful." Sidious couldn't resist jolting him with another quick flash of force lighting. Vader gritted his teeth, bit his tongue so hard he was sure he tasted blood. Palpatine, deciding that Vader had had enough suffering for the day, abrubtly switched to another subject that needed to be addressed. "Rise my apprentice, come, you need to prepare yourself for the ball tonight. You haven't really been properly introduced into society, and I would hate to have to bring such pitiful specimen as you are in this state."

Rise. Stand. After what he did to him, Palpatine expected him to just jump to his feet and leave and get ready? As if! But He did. He did because Vader always did. He pulled tightly on the force, closed his eyes, and willed himself to stand. He forced himself to stand, drawing a sharp breath, and tried to ignore the pain when he stood. Trying to ignore the complete agony that shot though his body, only serving to heighten his hatred, which he covered with submission, he allowed himself a brief moment to calm, his face resuming the same cold, indifferent, aloof manner it had when he had first entered the room, knowing that he was being summoned for another round of torture to his Master's satisfaction.

Master.

How he hated that word. He was so sick of it. All his life he had been raised, taught, bred on the fact that his existence was based on serving Master. He had had several. And none of them had been any good. As a boy, Watto had probably been the best Master he'd ever got. He had once hoped for a day when he wouldn't have a master, when he would be his own. He had given up on hoping a long time ago. It wasn't like it ever got him anywhere, now was it?

Slave.

He could have blocked the lightening with his hand, but he hadn't fought back. He never did. He just took the pain silently. He never fought back. A slave never fights his master. He could have. And won too. But he didn't. It was the principal of the matter. Vader was more powerful by far. He knew it, the Emperor knew it, the clones knew it, even the intelligence agents knew it. But he didn't. And he hated it. He hated it because he knew that he was, and always would be a slave.

He had never not had a master, and now was no exception. But not for long. No, not for long. One day he would get revenge. And he would rule. There would be no master. He would kill Sidious, and reign. He would not make the same mistakes Palpatine did. He wouldn't follow in the same steps of all the other fallen Sith. He would milk every ounce of knowledge Palpatine had out of him, make sure he got it all, and when he had outlived his use he would die. Then he would strike. It was only a matter of time, and they both knew it. Palpatine would pay dearly, with his own life.

But, until then he would continue to play the dutiful apprentice they both knew was fake.

"Yes...my Master." Vader bowed, and took his leave.

The Empire was celebrating its fourth anniversary tonight.

And Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo didn't want to go. But she had to.

Empire.

It was sickening. She didn't want to go celebrate the Empire. The thought made her nauseous. It was corrupt, it was perverse, it was a dictatorship. All her life she had work hard so that the galaxy wouldn't come to this. She had tried. And she had failed. She wished that she could just say that she was just sick and couldn't come, but she would most definitely suffer is she did. And anyway, perhaps, perhaps it wouldn't be that bad. Maybe she could just try to forget that the world was crumbling to pieces and enjoy herself. Maybe she could find someone, anyone who would be willing to maybe consider turning away from the empire and join the Rebel Alliance. But she had to be sure. That possibility was low, very, very low.

Even now, as she sighed and stared at her reflection in the mirror at herself, as her handmaiden piled her hair elegantly on top of her head, she knows that it was highly unlikely. Her eyes wander over her reflection, someone she doesn't recognize. Had she seen herself now before the war, she would not have known herself.

Dark chocolate brown eyes stared out from under long eyelashes, making her eyes look larger than they were. A small nose, and full lips which had had been turned a soft, deep red by lipstick. A lock of her rich, dark brown curly hair elegantly came down over her shoulder; the rest had been delicately braided and arranged, taking each hair into account, and ornately styled into a gorgeous bun. Her skin was light, very fair, and contrasted nicely with her deep blue gown. It was one sided, and rather form fitting at the top, then loosened at the waist, but was still silky and clung to her body despite the long bottom. Her handmaiden stepped back, indicating that she was done with her hair. Padmé stood and went to stand in front of her full-length mirror, doubtfully eying the split up the side of the dress that came almost came to her middle thigh, afraid that it revealed too much.

"You look beautiful milady." A soft voice from behind her caused her to start.

She was surprised to feel unexpected tears prick the back of her eyes, but refused to let them show. "Thank you."

It was amazing how well her friends knew her. Her handmaidens the best. They were the only few she had left.

Padmé sighed. Her eyes met her own in the mirror. This was why she would never recognize herself. It was her eyes. She still was the same person, but she was so different now. Naboo seemed a planet from another life, and it seemed as though she could never recapture the sweet innocence that surrounded it. She was war-torn. Different. Older. Wiser. Stronger. She was still beautiful. Yes, she was still beautiful. Very much so. But the was something different.

She had been young. So young. And foolish. Naïve.

There were times she wished that she had stayed that way, never tried to go into political issues. But she knew that she never not have. And she knew that although it was hard sometimes, in the long run, it would be worth it. Or she hoped. It seemed as though the Empire had shattered that dream. They were always ahead, like there was no redemption. It had showed her things her never thought possible. Horrific things. Disgusting things. It had opened her eyes, and her mind recorded it all. There was no delete button.

She stood strong, but her eyes told a different story. They showed a woman who was slowly dying inside. A woman who was crumbling. Breaking. She was broken. There was no one to fix her. It was her eyes that made her a different person. But she never showed it. The only people who saw her like this were her handmaidens. They were only one she knew she could trust. In her life, you trust no one. But now as she stared at the mirror feeling the familiar sense of dread, she hopes.

It is only thing left for her to do.

 **A/N: hope you guys enjoyed!**

 **xx,**

 **Christina.**

 **Word count: 1995**


	5. II: A Guest And A Suitor Prologue Pt:II

A/N: Sorry if the last chapter seemed kinda short, I just wanted to get it out there. I hope this one's better and longer. And I kinda wanna get things going. Do you like the beginning? Let me know!

Enjoy lovelies!

It was too bright. The lights dazzled her eyes. The holo reporters came out in droves. All hoping for a picture of the Senator. Hoping for a couple words that would put a bonus in their checks. Their cameras clicked and lights flashed. She couldn't see because of it. But she smiled anyway.

She hated holo reporters. They were annoying, and pesky and talked too much, and she didn't have time. Tonight, however, she favored them with a graceful smile, though not stopping to answer all of their questions. They were held back from the direct walkway to the palace by barriers on either side, because heavens knew what they'd do if they weren't being restrained. She continued to walk towards the entrance. One foot in front of the other. Calm. Composed. Beautiful. Graceful. She did this every time. Her training was ingrained so deeply in her mind that it was only natural to make sure that that every step she took showed confidence. She even mentally reminded herself on how to do the simplest things in perfect form.

She stepped inside of the grand ballroom. It was beautiful. Decorated to perfection. The entire room looked exquisite. The only thing that wasn't to Padmé's liking was that it was made to celebrate the Empire's glory.

Empire.

How she hated that word. It was a dictatorship. It was so wrong. It forced-No. Not now.

Now...she wanted some wine. She was going to enjoy herself. And she was going to have some fun, for force's sake! She headed over to the drinks. Red wine. Delicious.

"You know, if the first thing you do when you go to a ball is get a drink, people are going to start calling you an alcoholic." The Alderaan senator's voice cut though Padmé's bliss.

"Bail!" A delighted smile immediately found its way on her face and she beamed at her colleague. "You came!"

"Why wouldn't I?"

It all of her willpower not to throw her arms around his neck and hug him. Bail was like a brother to her, and by the way more and more of her allies were dropping like flies, she was always scared that she may not ever see him again.

"How are you? I haven't seen you lately." She tried to make sure that she didn't show too much relief showed through, but if you never know if your friends are alive of dead, it can be rather hard.

"I'm fine, and you, how are you?" Bail said, concern shining in his eyes, and she could tell that he had something to tell her, be it good or bad she didn't know, but she was anxious to find out.

Is it something about the alliance? Is it bad? Did the Emperor find out? Did someone die? She hoped her face didn't show any of the absolute panic that was taking over her body right now.

"I'm well, thank you. Bail-"

Bail immediately stopped her, taking her arm and speaking in a low voice. "Not here Padmé. We're being watched now, even as we speak."

Padmé didn't dare turn and look for hidden cameras, it was far to obvious. The thought of being watched made her skin crawl. So, instead she favored him with a smile and laughed, hooked her arm though his and said, "Of course, how could I forget! So tell me, how is Breha? Is she well?" Quickly switching to the subject of his wife.

He played along, joining in flawlessly. "Yes, yes, Breha is well indeed. And I trust your family is well?"

"Quite. I spoke to them just yesterday in fact."

"Is that so?"

Padmé had been with Alliance four years now, and had just been made senator only a short while before Palpatine had been made Emperor. Bail had originally introduced her to it, believing she could be trusted. Padmé had immediately joined in, loving the idea. Bail, and her other colleague and friend, Mon Mothma, had foreseen the rising Empire, and already gathered a group of followers, and called themselves the Rebellion. The group had grown from two to thousands. Padmé had foreseen the Empire as well, and although she did everything to stop it, she had been clueless as to how to form a rebellion against it. When Bail told her about it she knew that it was exactly what she had been waiting for, and immediately pledged herself to it, for better or for worse, and she would fight for it till the day she died.

They continued with the pleasantries, making sure not say anything that would seem suspicious or offensive to the Empire.

"Where is the Emperor anyway, do you know? I have yet to see him. It's very rude, to have a ball in his honor, and him not around to enjoy it." Padmé said as breezily as she could, not wanting to give the impression that his absence made her nervous, even though it did.

Bail seemed a bit surprised, as though he just noticed. "I don't know, he isn't here is he?"

Padmé knew that, just like her, he was hoping it to stay that way.

"No." It was extremely unsettling. "Do you think he might not" she hesitated trying not to sound too hopeful, "Might not come?"

"You would think they would make a public announcement." Bail said, and she could tell he didn't want to believe his own observation.

"Oh, yes, well then we'll just have to wait and see." Padmé wished that no one would hear the disappointment in her voice, although inwardly she was thinking please, please be not feeling well.

Just then over the loudspeaker came the announcement of the Emperors's arrival.

I hoped to soon.

They weren't done.

"And a special guest of honor, please welcome Lord Vader!"

Padmé was sure she couldn't possibly have heard that right. Lord Vader? As in Darth Vader!?

This night couldn't get better.

"Vader?" Padmé's throat suddenly felt dry.

The entire ballroom was silent.

Palpatine entered the room, flanked by his red guards and four clones. Walking directly behind him, was a...something, but judging by his build he was either human or humanoid. He was well built, from what one could see, he was muscular, with broad shoulders, and everything about him radiated power and authority, but also darkness and a wave coldness seemed to sweep through the room, like ice, and, consequently, everybody froze.

He was wearing all black. Black boots, black pants, black tunic, black belt.

Black.

Black.

Black.

His black robe covered most of his face, from what she could see. Her eyes caught sight of a flash of light beneath his robes. His lightsaber.

Padmé had seen her share of strange and frightening things. She wasn't frightened by much of anything, and not much rattled her. But if there was anything that could absolutely petrify Padmé, this was it.

Vader was known as relentless, reckless, and intelligent, and insanely smart. He was also meticulous. It was rumored that he could read minds. He probably knew what she was thinking right now, as well as everyone else in the grand room. Absolute panic washed over her. She had never seen him, but she had heard stories.

Quick tempered with bountiful anger, he killed rebels and Imperials alike. Every day, the news was filled with Vader's new exploits and "progress" against the Alliance. He had killed hundreds, maybe millions. He was unstoppable and unchallenged. Padmé loathed the emperor, but she was terrified of Vader. Palpatine may have made the empire, but Vader was the one that cemented it. He was the Emperors's weapon. Palpatine never bothered to get his hands dirty, so Vader was the one who carried out the death sentences. He put fear into the hearts of the people, and because of his wrath, they were afraid to do something about the Empire. He was the reason that the Alliance how it was, suffering with no help and on the brink of despair. The things he did to his victims...it was horrific. To be here in the same room with him was a nightmare.

Palpatine walked calmly to his seat, which sat, above all the other seats on a platform, like a giant throne. It was sickening how he elevated himself like a king over everyone else. His guards took their places around him, and Vader stood behind the him, a little to his right side. It was a message, and also it was a clear threat.

Nobody moved. Padmé glanced sideways at Bail, who stood, face pale, and eyes wide. He was trembling. Padmé suspected she didn't look much different.

The silence was shattered (literally) by the loud crash! of a glass that fell from some young man's hand followed by the thump of his unconscious body hitting the floor.

"He fainted." Bail said, stating the obvious. Everyone stared, afraid to move, as if they thought Vader would kill them all if someone moved to help.

A group of paramedics immediately came, quickly picked him up, put him on a stretcher, and wheeled him out.

Palpatine raised his hand and said, unaffectedly, "Resume."

After a moment of silence whispers slowly began spreading through the room, and slowly, slowly conversation began to pick up.

"Why is Vader here?"

"Is there some kind of threat that he's here on Corosaunt?"

"He's scary."

"I told you, it was only a matter of time before he came to the Impearial parties!

"He's probably come to kill us all!"

"I heard he could read minds!"

"I've met him before."

"What was he like?"

"Not something you'd like to be around, for sure."

"I knew it! It only a matter of time! He's here to kill us all!"

Padmé wanted at this moment more than anything to go home. She wasn't sure that she could deal with this right now.

She was still in shock. Her mind refused to make sense of the situation. Her mind was ablaze with millions of questions and thoughts, none of which she had any answers to.

Why is he here?

Why did Palpatine bring him here?

Is he here just to terrorize us?

I didn't know Vader was even civilized enough to come to a grand party.

Does he want to be here?

Is he going to kill someone?

Is he human?

Can he actually do all people says he can?

Can he actually read minds?

Where did he come from?

Padmé didn't even want to think. She just wanted to go home. She glanced at the grand clock at the side of the room. It was only the beginning of the ball.

It was going to be a long night...

Palpatine, however was enjoying himself very much. He could feel the fear radiating from the people in the room. He found that they had become arrogant, the had not feared him. They had needed to be put in check, reminded of their places. They had needed to remember why they feared him. It had been time to remind them. And who was better at that than Vader?

Fear.

Palpatine reveled in the glory of it all. They feared him, because of Vader. Vader bowed only to him. He was ultimately in charge. Vader was in a submissive state, which was good. The boy himself had begun to behave out of line, and after that last little "talk" he appeared to be back where he wanted him. He tapped into the boy's signature.

The dark side of the force was strong with him, and a ever swirling whirlwind of emotions surrounded him, all bowing to the will of its master. The amount of power the boy had! He was in pain still, the wounds inflicted on his body still bothering him. He was still livid with anger and hatred, though that was not a new sensation to him. The dark side of the force swelled gloriously and rippled around him, and the need for blood and death was strong. But, he stood quietly behind him, the show of a submissive servant.

Palpatine was watching him though. It was only a matter of time before the boy tried to overthrow him and claim the throne of power for himself. As soon as the galaxy came under order, the senate was eliminated, and those Jedi gone, Vader would have to to go. It was inevitable that of Vader was left too long and not kept busy, he would try something. It was the way of the Sith.

But for now, the boy was behaving exceptionally. Palpatine knew the Vader despised politicians, and he had expected for them to all be dead by now, seeing Vader's already foul mood. But he hadn't, and was behaving very well. Apparently he had decided not to push Palpatine's temper again.

Palpatine scanned the room, his mind going over his list of traitors the would never make it far from the room.

Palpatine sighed happily. Yes, they would die. Soon, soon they would be gone. Until then, he would play like he had their best interest in mind, but they all knew it was false.

Vader was gone. One second he was there, the next the emperor was talking to him, and the next he had left. He had just left. Her eyes couldn't seem to focus well. She found herself glancing behind herself, scanning the area around her, as if something would jump out and grab her. Suddenly breathing seemed hard. Her insides felt jittery. Padmé glanced at the clock again. Three quarters into the ball. In a little while she could go home. Her hand came up to cover her eyes, not even listening to the conversation of her friends and colleagues that sat around her. The world slowed down. She closed her eyes, just listening. She could hear the talk around her, the soft comforting sound of music, the sound of laughter, the clinking of wine glasses. The others seemed to have relaxed, and people were enjoying themselves. All except her. She felt like she wasn't even there. It felt like a nightmare, when everything seemed fine, and when you knew that something bad was coming.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and she could feel the tips of them brush lightly across her cheeks. A hand touched her shoulder. Padmé jumped, jerking out of her chair and landing on the floor staring wide-eyed at the culprit.

"Oh I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you." A young man, maybe in his mid to late twenties held his hand out to help her up. He was handsome, with his slicked down dark brown hair, light blue eyes, and a chiseled face. He smiled showing of his even white teeth and killer smile.

"Rush. Senator Rush Clovis. It's a honor to finally make your acquaintance."

Padmé took his hand and stood, watching him curiously. She had heard of Clovis before, and was sure she had seen him before, but she had never actually met him personally. He's cute. And he presents himself very well. I wonder why I never have seen him before? I wonder... She quickly smoothed her dress and cleared her throat, standing tall and extending her hand for him to kiss assuming a calm and regal state. "Senator Clovis. I regret to say we haven't met before. It's good to make your acquaintance as well."

"I am sure that that could change." He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing it softly, his eyes never leaving hers. "I had seen you and you seemed to be troubled. I-" He hesitated. "I was wondering if would allow me the next dance, if you were not promised to someone else, that is."

Padmé glanced at her table, then turned back to Rush. "I am not engaged, thank you, and it would be a pleasure to dance with you." She turned back to her friends. "If you'll excuse me." They nodded. Padmé turned back to Rush, giving him a small smile, which he returned, raising his arm, and Padmé hooked hers though his. This might be what I need to take my mind off Vader. Maybe I can relax and enjoy myself. Vader's not going to stop me, after all. She couldn't resist glancing back up at where Vader had been. He was still gone. Oh well. Maybe he left, and went somewhere else. As if. She sighed. She returned her attention to Clovis.

"Are you alright? You seem kind of tense." Rush was watching her, a mild look of concern on his face.

"I'm fine. Just a little distracted, that's all." Padmé couldn't help but glance behind her one more time. "Let's not talk about me though. Let's talk about you. How did you get into politics? I didn't hear much about you until you was already senator and everything. Tell me a little about your background." Padmé quickly steered the conversation away from herself.

Rush took the bait thankfully, and Padmé couldn't be happier for a distraction. Rush was sweet, and easy to talk to, she hardly thought about Vader or the Emperor at all. She started to relax, and even enjoy herself. She invited him to sit with her friends at her table, and everything was going so well that she didn't even notice the time slip by, and she was finally able to engage in conversation.

She and Bail and Rush had gotten into it with some debate, which she honestly couldn't remember where it started. It was more like a battle of words and wit now more than anything. Padmé decided to give up, but Bail and Rush were still at it. It felt good, actually enjoying herself with her friends, engaging in a friendly argument. Her mind, however wandered back to Vader. She glanced back at the emperor. Vader had just returned and was saying something to the emperor, who smiled and nodded, and returned to his position behind him. Then Palpatine seemed as though something just occurred to him, and a evil smile crept up on his face. He stood, and once he had everyone's attention, said, "Dear senators, friends and colleagues,"(Here, Padmé inwardly gagged.) "I would like to thank you all for being here. It has been a pleasure..."

He began to ramble on with the pleasantries, giving long and exhaustive greetings before he finally began to get to the point of his little talk. "...And so, a toast, to this fine and glorious Empire, which, has grown strong, and powerful through the trials and pitfalls that it has encountered, and to which we celebrate this beautiful night."

Padmé, along with everyone else raised her glass and took a drink. The wine burned its way down her throat. She noticed that Vader did not drink at all, which was surprising, but, thinking about it was not. She had half expected him to, but then again she did not know if he was capable of drinking or eating. She wondered... shook her head inwardly groaning that she had let the Sith take over her mind. She needed to focus.

After everything resumed back to its original pace, Rush turned back to her and asked if he could dance with her again, to which she happily agreed, thanking the distraction. She let the music soothe her body, and concentrating on the soft lull of the dance, feeling every part of her body, listening to the soft sounds of people talking, glassware clinking, the comfortable feel of Rush's hands resting lightly on her waist, and let herself be caught up in the moment. She looked up from her feet and locked eyes with Rush's.

And for a long while, that was fine, but as the night grew older, and Rush's hands began to wander lower, she began to feel slightly uncomfortable, and even in the gigantic room she felt a little claustrophobic. I need to get out of here. Just for a moment. Thankfully the song ended, and Padmé made the excuse of feeling a bit hot and needing some 'fresh air' to 'cool down'. After politely declining company, she went outside on one of the many great balconies to get her 'fresh air'. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shivered slightly in the cool midnight air and walked over to the edge of the balcony resting her hands on the the railing and gazing down at the view in front of her.

Sighing, she crossed her arms over the smooth polished surface of it, the coldness of it seeping slowly into her skin. She closed her eyes, and breathed in deeply. Her mind begins to wander, away from the ball and back, far before the Empire, to before Palpatine, to before Vader, to before she got involved in politics, back to the sweet memories of her childhood, back to Naboo. She could feel the soft, lush grass beneath her feet and between her toes. She remembered the cool water, so clear, shimmering in the sunlight, looking down and seeing the smooth pebbles at the bottom. She remembered running through the tall grass, she could pick all the beautiful flowers and make bracelets of them, she could climb the trees, and bite out of the rich shurra fruit it was loaded down with. She could taste the sweet juice of it on her tongue. She remembered the roaring of the waterfalls and the sounds of the birds.

She then thought of her home, she could picture it now; she remembered the comfortable home-ish feeling imbedded in the very walls, the way that when it was cold the would have fires and tell stories in the living room, with drinks of hot chocolate and blankets. She remembered that when it was warm the doors were left open and the windows, the smell of her mother baking filling the house.

Last of all she remembered her parents, and her sister and hers sister's family and daughters, Padmé's nieces. She couldn't remember the last time she saw them, all she knew that it was long ago. The feeling of nostalgia and homesickness hit her like a punch in the gut. She wanted to go home. She wanted to escape. She wanted a break. She wanted to hug her father, she wanted to taste her mothers heavenly goodies, she wanted to sit on that old porch swing on the back porch with her sister like she used to while she watched her nieces play, she wanted to listen to the waterfalls, hear the singing of the birds, she longed to taste the shurra fruit she craved, to climb the trees, to smell the flowers, to run through the grass barefoot, and to stick her feet in cool water and watch the little fish dart away and come back, bumping around her feet.

Soon. She promised herself. Soon.

Much love,

xx,

Christine.

Word count: 4092


	6. III: Troubled Dreams And Recollections

A/N:Enjoy!

* * *

Ice.

Ice was a cold and cruel thing. It bit at your fingers and toes, planted frosty kisses on your cheeks, turning them red. It was a slap on the face when you came out in from a warm environment. It gave an unpleasant sensation when you were exposed to it for long periods of time. It had the amazing ability to break things, however, when it came in contact with it. Things snapped easier when covered in ice.

And yet, people loved it. They liked the feeling of the cold. They loved skating on ice. Very thin ice.

It would cost them all.

* * *

(Flashback)

Ten years ago,

Coruscant

Torture.

His wrists ached from the heavy metal force inhibiting cuffs placed on them. His body ached from being still, unable to move or stretch. His neck would never be able to get back in the right position after being held the same place so long. The not fully healed slashes across his back still throbbed. His body was still resting, trying to heal. His eyes opened suddenly, the sickly yellow-ish red eyes instantly fixing themselves on the floor. He didn't have to look up. He could already sense the presence down the hall, calmly making its way towards him. The sent rich cologne, the soft swishing of the heavy senatorial robes, and the soft sound of feet on the polished floor coming closer hit him all at once. A sudden feeling of hatred, a surge of anger, and a horrible feeling of dread rose up in him.

His master was here.

Along with a new, unfamiliar, unfriendly, cold, presence. A slow, cruel, humorless smirk curved his his cracked lips. Who was this? A visitor? Palpatine had brought him company. How nice. Coming to check in on the invalid? Some new darkside lackey, maybe? Someone to torture him perhaps? But, no, on closer inspection, it was not some pathetic Sith wannabe, some sadistic sorcerer drawing on the darkside his Master had found to torture him, but an older, far more experienced being, that had obviously had full training, a master in the ways of the darkside, one that had been well trained and guarded. Vader examined the signature curiously. Although the mind was well guarded, he could sense that it was at ease, although distasteful at his surroundings, which spoke volumes. Since this new darksider was quite at ease in the presence of his Master, he could only guess that, one, Palpatine had found someone who was a trained user of the darkside, and agreed to allow him to come into cahoots with him, or two, Palpatine had trained him, or three, this was one of his darkside friends from college. Since the later idea was utterly ridiculous, it had to be one of the former. But which?

Vader stared into darkness. The room that was his confinement had boring, concrete walls and no windows in it, and thick doors kept him confined, so the room was always pitch black. He was sure there was no way any speck of light could survive in here. There was no light, only darkness.

Darkness.

Vader was no stranger to darkness. From a young age, ever since Palpatine first found him, he had made it a point to immerse him into darkness. He taught him the learnings of the Sith, and trained him in it. Once, a long time ago, he used to be afraid of the darkness, when he had first come here. Palpatine used to lock him up in a tiny, dirty, pitch black cell, and force him to sit there for hours. But over time, he began to no longer fear it. He began to get used to it, to be at ease in it, to embrace it. It was his hideaway, his home, his way of life. He took comfort in it. It was a replica of his life. And it served him well. It taught him, it showed him how not to rely on vision, but to feel his surroundings. It taught him how to hide and go unnoticed. It was his home. Yes, the darkness served him well. So now, staring into it, with no way to see anything else, it hardly bothered him.

The door slid open and stopped with a heavy thud. The hallway was dim as well, and the gray light barely made it more than a foot in his room of confinement. His Master entered, followed by another, briefly blocking his view. He still didn't look up, staring at the gray floor of the hallway. The door closed suddenly, slamming shut, blinding him again. The lights came on, bathing the room in a warm light. Maybe once it would have been considered welcoming, but here, it did little. Two long minutes passed, in which Palpatine just studied him, and the new presence probed him, trying to pry into his mind, but Vader's mental barriers were stronger than the hardest substances, unbreakable, and had a prickly outer barrier that instead of just keeping one out, it left the persecutor with a headache that would plague them for days if they tried. After several unsuccessful attempts, it gave up.

Finally, it spoke. "I thought you said that he was under force suppression medications and had a I see force binders on his wrists, but then why is it that his mind barriers are force enhanced, and I can strongly sense the darkside in him?" The voice was deep, rich, and cultured, regal and sounded like it should have belonged to someone of some royalty.

"Although those are the strongest force binders that have ever been engineered, apparently they weren't quite strong enough to control the quite large amount of mediclorians that runs though him. He has been given all kinds of force suppression drugs, but apparently he still can feel the force." Palpatine almost sounded smug. "Isn't that right, Vader?"

Vader didn't respond, but continue to stare unseeingly to the floor.

"Impressive." Was begrudging answer, a touch of admiration hidden in it.

It stepped forward, bending down on one knee a few inches in front of Vader. Vader still didn't move, staring sightlessly now at the crouched figure's boots. He felt a hand touch his chin, forcing him to look up. The gloves felt cool against his skin. The smell of expensive cologne that clung to the rich garments strange to his nose. The fingers pushed up his chin, forcing him to look it in the eye, and he did, his golden eyes filled with coldness and defiance. It was an older man, around his late sixties or seventies, with a well trimmed white beard and white hair. His eye were dark brown instead of yellow-red, and overall he looked more like someone's uncle or grandfather than anything else, but his signature oozed authority, wisdom, power, and a sense of royalty. He was someone to take seriously, and his rather soft and deceptively kind facial features was was merely his appearance an nothing more. He examined Vader's face, a moment before he drew away, but Vader's eyes never left his. "How old is the boy?"

"Sixteen."

"Sixteen."

"Vader." For the first time since entering the room his Master spoke directly to him. "This is my apprentice, Darth Tyranous, also known as Count Dooku. He will be taking you to a Sith temple on Malachor to begin your training in swordsmanship, and continue your tutoring until you have completed it, then you will be brought back to Corasunt where you can begin make yourself useful."

Vader just stared at him a moment, before he turned to the Count. Apprentice? Apprentice? He had almost ruled that out as an option. Palpatine had another apprentice and he hadn't known? What else didn't he know? Was he the only one who didn't know? Were there others? He felt completely clueless.

Clueless.

His eyes widened as soon as he regonized the feeling. His fists tightened. His whole body tensed. A low growl escaped his lips. Clueless. He hated it with a passion. Although he was comfortable in his dark cell, he always felt secluded from everything that was going on. He always felt that Palpatine kept him from doing anything 'useful", instead, just keeping him in a cell. Palpatine always told him that he was supposed to have proper training before he could be "useful" so now he supposed he would become that, but still, it angered him that Palpatine had been doing things and he wasn't in on it. He never was in on it. He was literally in the dark. "When?"

"Why, this very moment. The time has come for you to begin training so that you might be incorporated into my plans." As if on cue, the door opened, two clones taking his binders off and getting him ready to be sent off to Malachor.

He spent the next four years at that temple, where he learned and finished all his studies, and was versed in all different forms of languages and was taught all forms of physical training, his hours spent in endless training and learning to stand any kind of physical torture. He was introduced to a new level of it his first day, when the Count cut off his arm, as a sort of initiation. He lived, breathed, and did nothing apart from the darkside. He studied their teachings, unlocked their secrets, and practiced their ways. He spent his last two months in a force induced meditation, doing nothing but just shutting himself out the outside world, looking inwards and feeling the force flow through him. When he finally came out of it, he had been so entrenched in it that it had physically imprinted itself on his skin, the swirling black lines creeping over his arms and up over his shoulders and chest. It faded over time, but would strangely reappear whenever he drew deeply on the darkside.

Right before he was to return, while he was meditating, he thought about what would happen to him when he returned to his Master. Would Count Dooku still be his superior? Would his Master keep him a secret? Did his Master intend to have him eliminate any resistance to his plans without ever explaining the his grand scheme of things? Or would he be his henchman? He despised the thought that Palpatine might have plans that didn't include him. He was ready. He had been trained. He was the perfect servant. And he was going to be on equal terms as his Master. He could prove himself worthy of all the secrets that his Master held, and no one would be his superior.

His red rimmed eyes narrowed. And if they would not step down and allow him his rightful place of authority subordinate only to Palpatine, then they would die.

The Count would be the first to go. There was no way the old man would remain his superior and treat him with such contempt. Yes, the Dooku would die, Vader would make sure he never left this place. Upon his return, he would immediately make it clear to everyone that there was someone new in charge, and that no one dare go against him. He would track down any association of Palpatine's and find all of their secrects, and he would search until there was nothing that he didn't know.

His quick mind began to turn, thinking of how to put his plan into action.

The next day he woke, showered, dressed, taking his time as he prepared himself to meet his Master. When he arrived at the ship, Dooku was already there waiting for him, agitated and annoyed at his lateness.

After a moment of staring disapprovingly at him, which Vader promptly ignored, Dooku turned sharply and to head up the the ramp. He had been late. Dooku hated when he was late. He usually wasn't. But today of all days, he was. And for the first time, although Dooku didn't know it, it was on purpose. Vader knew exactly how the Count would react, and that was the reason he did it. He would be annoyed, agitated, and so caught up in his frustration he would never sense his quickly approaching death. Vader's mental shields were strong enough that he never would have sensed anything from Vader or the Force, but to be sure, Vader had created a little side distraction. The moment the Count's back was to him, Vader he moved behind him so that he was almost touching him, his lightsaber connecting with Dooku's back, the crimson blade cutting through his chest, his eyes widening as he looked down in shock, before falling forward, and lying eerily still, frozen.

Vader stood over the freshly minted corpse a moment, staring down at it, and allowed an unholy feeling of glee at eliminating the first and biggest threat to his plans. He bent over it and plucked the lightsaber from his belt, before picking out anything else on him that might be useful before he stood, and stepped over the body, careful not to touch it. He climbed up the ramp, put in the ships coordinates, and retired.

Sitting there in the pilot's chair, he pondered on how he felt being the one to instigate the Count's death. After a long moment of pondering on the subject, however, he came to the conclusion that he felt no joy or any pleasure in killing. The Count had not exactly ever been nice to him and had always treated him with no good will, but Vader would not stoop to his level. He was pleased that he had made progress, yes, and that he had eliminated the biggest possible threat, but the act brought him no pleasure, or remorse for that matter. He decided then, that he would not kill unless necessary, and that although he felt no remorse, he would not kill to bring any sense of gratification. It didn't bother him to kill, but it was not something that he wanted to do if it could be avoided. Death was something that he had no care to initiate, but if necessary he would do so without hesitation.

His Master had been standing there when he arrived, his hood covering most of his face. He could sense immediately the interested curiosity as Vader descended the ship alone. Surely the old man had sensed the death of his former protégé, but the old man was probably still unable to figure out how that came about.

Vader calmly stood in front of him, now even taller than the man in front of him. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a long, cylindrical object, and held it up in the palm of his hand, before his fingers closed around the curved hilt, igniting it. It sprung to life, showing off the bright red blade, and Vader just held it a moment, allowing Palpatine to realize what happened before he switched it off, holding it out to the older Sith, who eventually accepted it, still trying to grasp this new information.

He looked up suddenly from the object in his hand, his eyes narrowing, but Vader, sensing his Master's suspicion and underlying mistrust as to where his loyalties lay, bent down on one knee and lowered his head, showing his submission.

He had, in his plans, immediately decided that there would be no higher authority above him than his Master and intended that everyone would be made aware of that fact as soon as possible. He hadn't long to wait, merely three hours into his search, his progress had been impeded under fact that he did not have authorized permission to access classified information.

"I'm sorry Sir, but without authorization I cannot allow you to access those files." The female personnel said, starting to feel a bit anxious about the the young man demanding entrance. Whoever he was, he did not seem to take being told no well, and she had the feeling that he was not someone to mess around with and might respond dangerously if she kept refusing him entrance to the information. "Unless you have an authorization code or express permission from the Emperor, you cannot be allowed to-

"Where's the control room?" Vader interrupted her impatiently.

"Sir, I cannot allow you to enter-"

Vader growled, his temper beginning to heat. He grabbed the woman by her neck, careful not to choke her but enough to for her to understand the gravity of the situation. His fingers tightened a little around her throat to just let her know exactly what kind of person she was toying with. "Tell me. Now."

She was shaking, her eyes wide with fear, tears quickly filling them. "I-They..We-He-I can't. Please sir, I cannot -I just- the emperor - please let me go."

"Tell me." He felt only a tad regretful of being so harsh, but she had to understand that no wasn't an option.

She stared at him, but after a only moments indecision however, "Follow me."

He released her and she took him away until she came to a long hallway, flashing her badge at the guards and pushing open the large double doors, stepping aside to let him pass.

The large, pristine, circular room was filled with Imperials, who each hand their own work station, computers lining the walls. Everything that Palpatine decided to put into action was right here in this room. Vader decided then and there that this room would be under his control, and nothing would go on in here that he didn't know about and command.

Setting that in place was surprisingly easy. It only took one quick demonstration for every imperial to understand that now that Dooku was gone, there was only one person in charge below only the emperor, and that was Vader.

Vader was quite pleased with himself. It only took a day, and he had already established ninety percent of his plan, and having unrestricted access was really quite helpful. There was now only one thing that could bring his plans to an end.

The Emperor.

No doubt the old man had already heard of his actions. When he had first been escorted here the emperor had informed him that they would discuss exactly what would be his role in the growing empire, and for Vader to place himself in a place of authority seed a bit of an undermine to his Master chosen plans. Ah well. He would live.

The emperor, he found, was not at all displeased. He had not intended to place Vader in such a position of power, but since Vader had made it quite clear without using words that he wanted to be completely involved in everything, so much so that he would kill any of his superiors besides himself, Palpatine welcomed it.

He immediately set Vader to work. Palpatine hadn't quite had the time to clean up his empire, and with the number or Rebels growing, he had had no one to command his troops in battle or filter out the rebels trying to get into the inner workings of the empire itself.

Vader first went straight to the purging of the empire. Every traitor, every soul that wasn't a true follower of the empire was slaughtered. He eliminated anyone who displeased him, imperial and rebel alike. He removed people that the emperor had placed in power and replaced them with his own officers. Then, he began purging the city. Everyone was forced into submission. He hunted down the rebels until they were almost obsolete, killing every single one he could find. Killing rebels was fairly easy, but maintenance of the Empire was harder.

He continued the cycle. Killing rebels. Cleaning the empire. Commanding troops. Fighting alongside them. There had been a time Palpatine had introduced another young Sith, an former apprentice of Dooku, a female by the name of Asajji Ventress. She was a thin, white bald thing, although quite fast, and had a fragility about her that was greatly deceiving. He had thought that she might be a good change, someone to be Vader's equal. He sent them off on a mission together, and just like with Dooku, Vader had returned alone.

Everyone feared Vader, but those inside the empire, although they still feared him, they respected him.

But it didn't matter. No matter how much they feared him, still it wasn't enough.

One day they would.

And one day they would all suffer for pushing him.

(End of flashback)

Four years later, Vader contemplated his life.

The soft sounds of music drifted to his ears. His eyes watched few strands of light that flowed and died across the dark room before glowing again. The thin carpet did little to soften the hard floor upon which he sat. The force flowed around him, running through his body and soul. The pleasant smell of incense soothed him, calming him.

Meditation.

There were few places he ever felt comfortable enough to it. His body was always alert, tense, even in his sleep. Single handedly running the empire along with maintaining it, including his hunts for the Jedi and his attempts to snuff out the rest of the rebellion, he couldn't afford any distractions or relaxation. It wasn't as though he could go on vacation, or call in sick. Perhaps that was why the emperor had offered Ventress as an companion, but Vader was not quite so done in to allow another to take his place of authority. No personal time, yes. No relaxation, yes. Unable to continue, never. He may not have time for "vacation" but that hardly bothered him. He felt that any such thing was frivolous and unnecessary. But it meant meant that he was supposed to always be on the alert, quick to sense and ready for anything that was thrown at him, so disconnecting himself from the world and delving into was not something he usually allowed. At any rate, he got to meditate for about ten minutes every three weeks.

Recently, however, Palpatine had decided to bring Vader with him to the opera house. Vader could really not understand what was so fascinating about these drama's that drove his Master back every week, but whatever it was, it was a good opportunity. The first time had come here he had immediately spotted a nice, large room, high above, sitting in a dark corner, and he had gone to investigate it. It was always empty, because it was so dark, but it was a spacious room, which gave him the best view, although he would never use it.

He had claimed it as his own then, and every two weeks when the emperor would come here, always forcing him to come along, Vader would sit down on the floor and meditate.

This particular time, he thought. He looked back on all his training, at his life before, where he started, who he used to be. He thought of his past and future. He thought of slavery, and he thought of freedom. He thought of pain, and he thought of healing. And finally, he thought of who he was, and how he had been changed.

Four years later, Vader contemplated his life.

* * *

Mess.

Padme grunted, throwing aside other clothes and items that had lodged themselves in her closet. She was quite surprised that there was just so much junk in the closet. It was her messy closet after all. When Padme had first gotten her apartment, the giant closet in the front room near the door had been picked. Originally, the room had been picked for shoes, a place to put your coat in, other minuscule items. However, in only a few weeks the closet had tuned into a place to throw anything you didn't have a place for. It was very useful especially when something caught her fancy that she couldn't quite find a place for, then she could always throw it in the closet for later.

She had to admit, though, that she had become a little bit of a hoarder, and least if she could fit it in the closet. Padme was a minimalist when it came to home decor. A naturally clean and tidy person, Padme was never one for clutter. But she unfortunately had this horrible habit of shopping. Already her closet was so large that it showed no promise of her ever wearing one outfit twice. Padme was the kind of person that if she saw something she liked she would buy it, and her closet would be the one to suffer. But every time she went through it, determined to throw away at least one item, she fell in love with her original choices, was left with no option but to put it back. The most she ever accomplished was to rearrange and tidy it up.

She paused suddenly, pulling out a piece that had, when she had first seen it she had new that it was the one. And looking at she knew she had been right. It was a new weathercock, painted a beautiful bright red. It was as much a decoration as it was useful, but Padme lived in the Five Hundred Republica. She could always place it on top of the apartment complex, but she wasn't sure it would look quite right. So she would continue wait for the day when she would start a family back on Naboo, and she could place it on her house. She placed it aside lovingly, now getting back to the task of pulling out other thing. After a long stuggle, she pulled out a very attractive chase lounge. It was red, just like her rooster, and after a moment consideration, she walked into her spacious living room, stopping to look around it. Her whole living room consisted of white and tan themes, dark wood floors with off white carpet covering most of it. It was a very modern style, but when she had first got the lounge, she hadn't seen how to make it fit, but in a white room, a spot of red would make all the difference. It would be an beautiful contrast to everything else. After readjusting the other couches, she found the small designer couch to look bold and quite daring in the room.

Feeling satisfied with herself, and happy at the thought that she could buy something else now, she started searching again until she finally found what she was looking for: her stepping stool. She carried it into her bedroom, and, setting it on the floor, she stood on it, staring at the one thing that was capable providing such great joy. Looking eye to eye with it now, she was able to get a better view. She had hoped that being eye to eye with it would make her schedule would perhaps change it, but it remained the same. She would not be able to clear off her work schedule for vacation until the end of next month.

Phooey.

After a moment thought however, she decided that she would not allow that to drag her down, instead, beginning to grow excited at the thought of planning a vacation. She could see it as something to look forward to, something to give her new motivation.

It was already starting to get late, Padmé considered what exactly she must do with the rest of her evening. It had been a long time since she had last had had an afternoon to herself, and now that she did, she wanted to spend it wisely. It would greatly please her to just sleep away the day but that didn't seem to do her night off justice. It should be something worthwhile, like a night out.

Reaching that decision, she immediately set about seeing it done. She already knew exactly where she could spend a nice, pleasurable evening. Throwing her closet door open, she quickly selected a dress, did her makeup, snachted her purse and headed of to a nice night at the opera.

All was well until she was interrupted.

"Emperor." Her eyes narrowed and her voice came out razor sharp.

Palpatine smiled, his face forming into a friendly smile, mimicking that of a kindly old uncle. "Amidala, it's so good to see you again. How are you, my dear?"

Padme's lips turned up into and cold, disinterested smile. "Quite awful, all thanks to you. By the way, that was some move, bring Vader to a public party, giving half the people there a heart attack." Her eyes narrowed.

Palpatine let out a merry laugh. "It was brilliant wasn't it? I found it most entertaining."

"It was a low and underhanded move, Emperor. You may find other people's fear amusing, you think that you have power over people by using Vader to scare people into obeying you, but it won't work forever. People will bond together and realize what you're truly doing, and it's not as if you can just kill them like all the rest."

The facade dropped as Palpatine's eyes grew yellow. "It would do you good to watch how you speak to me, Amidala. You're lucky I haven't sent Vader to go do a check on you. As a matter of fact, I still might." He suddenly smiled, all darkness gone from his demeanor. "I do hope you enjoy your opera, Senator."

* * *

To an onlooker, it would seem very strange that she go alone, but Padme didn't mind going out alone. It gave her space to just enjoy herself without feeling the need to play nice. All she had to do was enjoy herself.

Padmé settled into her favorite booth comfortably, just as the opera began, glancing around huge room before her eyes suddenly settled on a booth, far above in the top corner. It was considerably darker in that corner, and in the corner at the top, far above, there was one giant booth. It always was so dark, and nobody ever occupied it. Padmé had one time vaguely wondered why it was so dark since there was equal lighting in the whole room. Of course, when the opera started, all the lights faded out, and the whole room was beautifully illuminated by the glow of the opera itself, but somehow the lights never seemed to reach into that corner. There was something about it though, the way it was always dark made it almost seem a formidable and evil corner right there in the opera house.

Evil.

That subject she had been avoiding all day. She had been determined to make the most of today, trying her best not to think about the great evil that dominated most of her world. Ever since-

No.

Padmé shook her head, before laughing at herself. There she went again. Always worrying. Three would be plenty of time for that tomorrow. She was going to focus on having fun, and not even the emperor himself would ruin that.

Her mind wandered again, however, her eyes drawn back to the dark booth. What was in there? What was it about that booth repelled people? Why was it always so dark? She didn't know, but she promised herself, that next time she came, that was where she would sit.

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 **Christina.**

 **Word Count: 5320**


	7. IV: Missions, Dreams, and Pastries

**A/N: I am so sorry for the wait, I had to sort out some things. From now on, your chapters will be on schedule. Enjoy!**

His eyes followed the soft swelling of the water, standing at the large window while watching it rush forward then hesitate and draw back. The smell of the ocean surrounded him, tinged with the fresh smell of the room. His ears listened to the absolute silence the surrounded him, his skin feeling warm from the sun warming it.

Lavish.

Furnished with the best of materials, he was truly staying in the best of hotels that Amfar had to offer. Open and spacious, the main room was huge, and half of the wall was glass, giving a beautiful view of the beach. Tan tones accentuated the room, the beige couch and carpet went beautifully in the modern setting, giving the room a airy and open feel. The bedroom was similar, sporting a balcony along a personal pool, and sheer, white curtains that could be covered with darker ones that would block out the light. The room was also quite large, the bed a king sized bed in the middle, along with a walk in closet and a bathroom that had it's own Jacuzzi big enough for two and a shower. But, along with it being quite impressive, it had a price to match.

Vader was quite accustomed to such richness. His own dwelling, if he ever had time to dwell in it, was just as expensive. Palpatine had made sure that Vader had been well looked after, and had provided him with the best of material items for his selection. It wasn't that he doted on Vader, merely that he felt that it he got the best, he would be more likely to perform his best. He was in no way pampered or spoilt by it, despite the generous amount of possessions he had at his command. He remained indifferent of it. It was used only in necessity, he had enough to use it as he wished, and that was all. His focus had never been on possessions, but on how they worked for him. He could live in a ditch for all he cared so long as he had enough the money was not an issue when he had to call upon it.

His Master had supplied him with fleets, thousands of troopers at his command, ships large and small. Appointed him head of military, placing him as the one everyone would answer to, and could only be overridden by the Emperor. He had provided him well.

Palpatine had purchased the hotel room before Vader had even arrived on Amfar, and it was to be his home for the next two days, his deadline to complete his work here. Then he would return to Coruscant.

When he arrived, he left his things, left and immediately began his work. He did not return back to the hotel until mid-morning the next day, all of his business completed. Pulling off his robes until he was left in only a comfortable pair of black sleep pants, got comfortable in his bed and fell asleep.

When he woke up, he commed. his Master, pulling on his outer robes.

"...Lord Vader."

"Master."

"I trust your mission was a success?"

"Yes Master."

"Good, good. I trust also that you was able to tie up any loose ends?"

"Nobody would even know I was ever here Master."

"Very good. And when can I expect your return?"

"Tonight if you wish it Master."

"I do. There is something I have long been meaning to have you take care of, and I want it done as soon as possible. I will brief you upon your return."

"Yes Master."

"Good."

The comm. abruptly cut off. Vader stared down at it, his mind racing, trying to figure out who exactly he crossed his Master so much that he intended to use Vader to kill, as that was undoubtedly the intention. Usually his Master had other people to kill those he didn't like, killing them later to make sure they would never expose him, only calling on Vader for solo assassinations when the situation was more than just a mere annoyance that was below Vader's notice. If his Master wanted him to take care of it personally, that only meant two things. One, that this wasn't just something to be taken lightly.

Two, whoever had had the gall to anger his master in so much that he wanted Vader to look into it personally was going to die slow and very, very painful death.

* * *

Imperial Center stood tall against the the dark night.

Tall.

Strong.

Powerful.

Magnificent.

Thriving.

Palpatine would accept no less.

As he watched the Coruscant skyline, his mind started drifting back to exactly how that had come along. He had waited patiently. Planned for years. And now his dream, (If he had anything as pleasant to which could be classified as a dream) had finally been established. And it had taken years. And now it had become exactly what it should be.

The process had been long. First had come the long, meddlesome, annoying span of being nothing the lowly adviser of that foolish, naïve queen, Amidala. The traitorous girl had been a thorn in his side from the beginning. She was strong spirited, feisty, stubborn, and one of those who went on and on freedom, peace, justice and democracy. The distinct combination that he despised. He had never liked her, but for some reason, he had kept her around. He had figured that he could eventually use her, and then have her killed later, but lately he seemed to have run out of patience. So, he supposed death was in order. A malicious smile spread across his wrinkled face as he imagined her death. He would have it slow and painful. He would have her tortured, bruised, beaten, and her mind ripped to shreds, and then only then would he let her die.

And she would die. He would make sure of it.

Next came gaining the trust of those foolish senators. Manipulating the senate had been easy. The fools couldn't see past there own noses, the conceited idiots. All he had had to do was stroke their egos, give them what they wanted, and in return would get the desired the seat of ultimate power.

Eventually he would rid himself of them forever, and he would be the only one in charge.

No more would he have to listen their ridiculous squabbling. He would be in charge of everything.

Vader.

Ah, yes. And he would have Vader with him. Vader had been a excellent help to him over the years. Without him Palpatine was sure that he wouldn't have been able to accomplish what he had in such a short time. In fact, he couldn't say for certain that there even would be a empire was Vader not around. The boy had been essential to establishing the Empire. When the Empire had been made, Palpatine had been too busy to sit back and enjoy it, there was so much to be done. But when Vader had come into play, that was when things started to get going. Vader was what really established the empire. He was quite helpful when it came to wiping out all of his enemies and anyone who bothered try to stop him.

The boy had power within himself, so much power. When he had managed to bridle the power, there was no end to what he could do.

Yes, he had lots to thank Vader for.

But he never would.

He was just reaching out with the Force to find exactly how soon his protégé would be here when he was interrupted by loud beeping indicating that someone outside was seeking permission to enter.

Annoyance coursed through him at being shaken out of his personal brooding time.

This particular time of the night he always spent alone, not to be disturbed by anyone for any reason. If they did they so would most definitely suffer.

Palpatine would accept no less.

"Well?" He snapped, his back to him still watching dark sky, not even bothering to hide the anger that was quickly threatening to make him kill the man right where he stood.

"L-Lord Vader just returned Sir. He wishes to speak to you as soon as possible. Sir." The man's voice was timid and Palpatine dully wondered exactly what amount of money had he been paid off by the other Imperials to enter the Emperor's private chambers.

"Good, good." Palpatine let out a low chuckle. "Send him in."

"Yes, milord." The man almost ran out of the room.

He felt him far before he even entered. As soon as he came into the hallway, he felt him. A tangible darkness entered into the room. It was as if everything in the room turned to ice. It was something that one, even without the force, could feel. An actual change of temperature. Despite the calm and calculated behavior, underneath that ice was lava. There was anger, such anger, such hatred even greater than Palpatine's. And it was always there. The darkness never left. Palpatine had often spent many hours marveling at it, wondering what had created it.

Not that he would ever complain. It gave him such satisfaction whenever he witnessed it, which, with Vader was quite often.

It served him well.

He was quick.

He was decisive.

He was a brilliant military strategist.

He was the Palpatine's ultimate weapon, and Palpatine honestly couldn't have asked for a better one.

It hadn't always been that way. When he first started training Vader, the boy didn't know what it meant to be truly enraged, and how to use his anger to his advantage. He had had them, buried deep in him, but didn't have the know how. But, after countless beating, after endless grueling hours of training and torture, he had learned. It had finally clicked in his brain, it had been sudden, like some sort of revelation, had just come on him, it finally dawned and it had taken Palpatine quite by surprise, and much to his delight.

He would never forget that day.

It had been glorious.

"Master." A deep, yet soft voice drew him out of his thoughts.

He didn't turn, nor respond for several moments, his eyes still focused on the Coruscant skyline.

Finally, he spoke. "You want to know what you're next mission is, don't you."

"You know me too well, Master," The voice purred.

"Indeed," Was Palpatine's calm reply. After a few minutes he finally spoke again. "You are familiar with Senator Amidala?"

"She is one of your greatest adversaries, is she not?"

"Hmm. She has a long time been a hindrance to my plans. And I have decided it is time. I want you to make her disappear. That, however, may be a bit harder than it appears. You see, she holds a vital place in the senate, and is an influential leader. The people respect her, and for someone who publicly speaks against me, it would be suspicious. Amidala has long established herself as a person dedicated to her work for the best interest of the people, always pushing for democracy. And, Although I am the government, killing her outright of her sudden death might cause an uproar." He paused a moment, letting out a displeased huff.

"Her obvious ties to the rebellion also plays to another factor. She holds great information concerning them, and I need that from her. I could have you, of course, go though her mind forcefully, but that might result in other issues I'd rather avoid. This is why I need you. I want you to watch her. She could be a valuable asset to us if she was convinced to work for us, which is unlikely. If so, squeeze every bit of information you can from her. I don't care how, you can toy around with her as much as you like for all I care, but when you're done, I want her to suffer. She will die, and I want to be there to see it. I do not want this to in any way, ever to be traced back to me. Understood?"

"As you wish it, Master."

"Good. Now, leave me."

The was no reply or sound. After a second, Palpatine glanced back over his shoulder to see if he had even moved.

The room was empty.

* * *

 _Imperialist Mansion (Vader's Residence/Domicile),  
Vader's personal quarters  
Coruscant._

Vader fell back onto the bed, a soft grunt escaping his lips. The firm yet comfortable mattress cushioned him, tempting him to give into it. The expensive, soft blankets tried to seduce him, vainly attempting to lure him in with the promises of blissful sleep. Vader ignored it completely.

Beckoning a data pad from his desk he immediately set about his research. If he was to take out this Amidala, he first needed to find out everything about her, even the most insignificant matters. Once he did, planning a strategy for attack would be an easy task. He had heard of the Senator, as his Master had often ranted about how much he wanted her dead, forcing Vader to listen. He had seen her several times, but with himself being so busy with searching for rebels, and the overwhelming task of maintaining the Empire, he had never had much time for an insignificant Senator. But now, she was the focus of his life. Whenever he began a mission, it became his upmost priority. Anything and everything pertaining to the mission was crucial.

Three hours later he set the datapad down, his thoughts full of the Senator.

Young and beautiful, uncommonly wise and savvy, Senator Amidala played a stong part in the senate. She had started he political career early, becoming queen and the age of fourteen, she worked hard to protect her people and strived for equality. After her term as queen was over, she had served Naboo as a representative to the senate.

Although very attractive, she was surprisingly single, and had never been in more than four relationships, and, being too busy with her work, decided that she preferred to stay that way until there was peace and democracy reigned.

She had no relatives on Coruscant, her only family was on the planet of Naboo. Her sister, was a married woman with two young daughters. Her maiden name was Naberrie, although she had named herself Amidala as her political name. Born in a privileged household, She was often involved many charity events, ever since she had been a child.

Like his Master had said, the ties between her in the rebel alliance was obvious. Most others would have never even considered it. Being a very vocal and active member in the senate, the young woman never did anything to conceal her hatred for the empire, and did everything she could to protest it, openly speaking of it as corrupt. Yet, the thought of the Senator Amidala committing treason was unthinkable to most.

Vader saw right through it.

She had proved that if it was something she believed in, she would fight for it. There was nothing to be done in the Senate. She couldn't reason her way into removal of the empire. The woman was sharp minded, young and cunning. He knew that there was no way this senator would continue fighting what she knew was a losin-lost battle. She would fight, even if she might die for it.

He made a mental checklist.

He would observe her from afar.

He would meet her, personally.

He would build a trusting relationship with her.

He would strike.

He would not miss.

That was it.

Five easy steps.

* * *

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since she had last been to the Opera house.

The fog was thick in her eyes, clouding her vision. Bodies pushed against her, doing little to deter her. Different smells attacked her nose from all different directions. Her ears were filled with the sounds surrounding her. Her skin felt cool from the chilly morning air.

Walking briskly towards her apartment amongst the hubbub of early morning Coruscant, Padmé Amidala paused her trek to stop by one of her favorite café's to get a drink. Ducking inside, she was greeted with the heavenly smell of sweet pastries and caff.

Loneliness.

When Padmé had first moved to Coruscant, her loneliness level was nearly unbearable. She wasn't afraid of travel or new things, but it was strange being completely alone. On Naboo, she had family and friends. Coruscant had seemed big, smelly, and filthy compared to her fairy tale home. She hadn't known anyone. She hadn't had the slightest clue how to find anything on this new planet that was to be her home.

Only after she had been situated awhile, had she ventured out of her apartment to familiarize herself with the surrounding area. She had only been walking for few minutes when she chanced upon the café. And ever since then, it had always been a place to stop by when she was out. Needless to say, she did end up hopelessly lost after her visit, and had to call Captain Typho to her rescue.

The smell of baking was what had drew her in. It was not her mother's or her sister's, but it reminded her of home and therefore, she often came because.

She settled comfortably into her favorite window seat, sipping her coffee, feeling considerably lighter today. She couldn't quite place it, but she had felt strange for the past two weeks, almost like she was being watched or monitored. Today, however, she felt nothing of the sort, therefore feeling quite relaxed. Padmé was used to being watched and nearly always had a tail to lose, but this time, she didn't get that strange prickly feeling on the back or her neck that she learned to trust, and no one was visible, but she still felt like the was something there, just lurking in the shadows.

But today felt normal, making her feel considerably more at ease. She was broken out of her thoughts of her mysterious, maybe imaginary, stalker by a smooth voice.

"Is this seat taken?"

Padmé looked up to find herself staring into the a vaguely familiar pair of light blue eyes. She just stared at him a moment, her eyes narrowed, trying to place the handsome face, before her eyes widened in realization. "Senator Clovis?"

"The one and only." He slid into the seat facing her. "And please, no more of that silly 'Senator Clovis' nonsense. Call me Rush."

"Only if you call me Padmé."

"You have yourself a deal."

Padmé observed him a moment quietly, as he did the same.

She sipped her frappé. "Tell me, do you come here often? I'm just curious because I come here almost everyday and I've never seen you here before."

"I just so happened to be passing by, and I thought that perhaps I might step in and...all right, all right, a little birdie told me that you come here often, and I thought might catch you around the area. After our first meeting at the ball, I had wished to make your better acquaintance, but when I tried to find you, you were nowhere to be seen. Henceforth, I decided to look for you here."

Padmé sat back in her seat, her eyes narrowing slightly, still smiling. "And what, exactly, is your interest in me?"

"Pardon?" Rush looked slightly taken aback, his handsome face contorting in confusion.

Padmé leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her fingers lacing together, her gaze penetrating, all the while maintaining a impassive smile on her lips. "Your interest. You have met me only once, and, as one should, were very pleasant in your manner towards me, as one would with any esteemed company. But for you to seek me out, even going so far as to stalk me here leaves me no doubt that you, forgetting what you just said about wishing to deepen your acquaintance with me, which more than likely isn't true, as no one would go searching to find out about me just to deepen your acquaintance with me, either, I have done something that seems intriguing to you, or, you are bored with your circle of friends and wish to acquire more, or, you are a madman hoping to catch me outside of my apartment and molest me, or, you have an romantic interest in me. So, tell me, what is your interest in me?"

Rush looked dumbfounded. "I..."

Padmé smirked, leaning back in her seat, drawing on her frappé.

"I...I...the...when we last met, when we first met, I was...curious...about you. I wanted to get to know you better, to have a chance to speak to you."

Padmé eyed him shrewdly. "So, basically, a mix between intrigued and bored of your current friends."

Rush stared at her a moment before a slow smile spread across his face, and, shaking his head, he laughed softly. "Amusing. You are cunning and sharp, Senator Amidala, more so than even I first gave you credit for."

"A common mistake." Padmé brushed her fingers off over napkin before meticulously picking up any spare crumbs from her mysteriously disappeared donut and placing them on the cloth. "But as nice as this little chat has been, I need to return home. Perhaps, we will bookmark it, and continue another time." Padmé threw her napkin away, picking up her drink.

Rush stood along with her, sweeping up her hand and kissing it. "I'll look forward to it, Padmé."

Padmé nodded, bidding him farewell, and continued her journey home.

When arrived there, she found she only had a few minutes to prepare for her destination.

Time to get to work.

* * *

Her head pounded as though a thousand rancors had trampled on it. Her chest throbbed from exaustion. Her eyes felt tired and weary from staring at a datapad for too long. Her legs ached from the incessant hurrying. Her back felt stiff from sitting at a desk. She felt ready to collapse.

So she did.

She didn't bother putting on any other clothes as she stripped down to her underwear. Falling on the bed, she wrapped her body in the cushioning softness until she was nothing but a lump under the covers. She felt so tired.

Maybe a good nap. Just like that. Oh, Yes. Wait. I should probably shower. No! I'm too tired. Besides, I'm not dirty. Although I'd probably feel better if I did. Ugh.

Padmé groaned, throwing back the covers, crawling out of bed. After stripping, she made a quick decision to hop into the Jacuzzi instead of the shower, allowing the massaging jets to do wonders to her body, her mind slipped to blissful emptiness.

Lethargic, she almost felt lax when she slipped out of the tub. She quickly dried herself off, anxious to be back in her bed. She didn't even bother with panties this time, so intent was she on getting back to her bed.

She had let her handmaidens have the week off, but now, looking at the wet, knotted hair that fell around her shoulders, she almost wished she hadn't. Padmé had just passed her vanity, intent on sleep, before groaning, and going back to sit down to brush her long, wet hair out. After fighting through a few knots, she was able to brush though it smoothly. Glancing up, she took in her own appearance.

Beauty.

Long, dark brown hair clung to her skin, the thin rivulets of water paving lines along her skin. Refined, straight eyebrows, arched just enough to present a challenge to the onlooker. Large, mocha eyes trimmed long lashes stared listlessly back at her, but showing an intelligence she wasn't sure she had deep in their depths. A small, pointed nose was fitted cutely on her face. Her slightly parted lips, naturally red, were full and inviting. Her skin was flawless and creamy, her breasts, rising and falling with her breathing, were small and perfect. Paired with a petite figure, Padmé was aware of her beauty, but she knew that only got her so far. If only.

Padmé sighed, braiding her hair into a long plait that reached as far as it could down her back. Standing, she slid into bed and pulling the blanket up around her, slipping into a fitful sleep.

She smiled, twirling a flower stem between her fingers, before plucking it, weaving it into the flower crown she was making. Glancing around, she was once again surrounded by her beautiful homeland, the smell of flowers around her, and she felt content. She sat in the sun, in the midst by the mountains, the waterfalls crashing around her, the shaak herds grazing peacefully nearby. Looking up, she took up of the flower necklaces she had in her lap, and, beckoning one of her nieces playing a few feet away, she put it around Pooja's neck, smiling wider than she had in years.

She looked down a moment, and glanced up to see her nieces missing. Standing, she looked around. "Ryoo? Pooja?" They were nowhere in sight. Starting to feel nervous, she called again. "Ryoo? Pooja? Where are you?"

"Padmé!"

She whirled, searching for the source of the voice calling her name. "Mom?" Padmé eyes searched over the fields of Naboo, the familiar feeling of dread growing in her stomach, as if she seen this already, and she knew that something bad was about to happen, but she could not pinpoint it, and she couldn't stop it.

"Padmé!" Padmé got up and started to run back toward the lake house. Everything stared to slow down. When the house finally came into view, she gasped, feeling the air rush out of her lungs. Her house was no more. A smoking ruin was left in it's place. Horrified, she ran straight to the remains of her home. "Mom! Dad! Sola!" As she was running she felt herself falling, her whole world shifting as her surroundings did with it. When it came to focus, she was suddenly in a hellish, fiery, lava planet. She recognized it instantly. Mustafar. The heat was almost unbearable. Lava flared up all around her, her vision tilting and whirling around her, and suddenly there were clones, everywhere, as though she had just entered a battle, and blaster fire started up all around her.

"Padmé!" A female voice, her mother's voice, screamed. Looking through the red haze frantically, she spotted her mother being dragged away. "Mom!" Padmé started running, but the harder she tried, the farther she seemed. She watched as her mother was dragged away become caught in the crossfire, a blast going though her head. Padmé heard a scream that could have been her own. No..not mom..no no no...suddenly she was at her mother's side, pulling her mother's head into her lap as sightless eyes stared at her, smoke rising from the cauterized wound. No... Her vision blurred and it only then she realized she was crying. The tears streamed down her cheeks, audible sobs escaping her as her bodly wracked with pain. Throwing back her head, her whole body stiffed as a cry of anguish ripped it's way out of her, the pain tearing through her soul.

Looking back down the world seemed to tilt and shift again, the fire and lava replaced with a foggy haze on a familiar landing pad. The face of her mother becoming replaced with the beaten face of her handmaiden, her face covered with dirt, a thin trail of blood running down the corner of her lip to her chin. No...no again..."Cordé, Cordé. Cordé." She shook her head, trying to deny what she already knew was true. "Cordé...no..." Her tears, which had stopped, started again, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "Cordé." Her handmaiden's head rolled to the side. The tears were flowing down her face now. "I'm so sorry Cordé..."

"You killed her."

Padmé looked up to see the source of the voice. Palpatine stared down at her, his evil eyes glinting, a cruel smile showing his yellow teeth. "Look what you've done. This is all your fault."

Looking down at her handmaiden, she shook her head. "I'm not...I didn't..."

"And whose fault is it then Amidala? Think about it. If it wasn't for you, I would have never been Chancellor, there would be no Empire, no death, no dictatorship. Your family would still live, Vader would not be killing your dear, pathetic rebellion, and your handmaiden would still be alive. Tell me, whose fault is that? Who did that? Who started the war? Who is the cause of the millions deaths? It's all your fault. You allowed this to happen. I truly must congratulate you Amidala, you have single-handedly destroyed the thing you have worked so hard to protect. You are reason things are the way they are. You are the reason diplomacy no longer lives. You are a murderer." Palpatine smirked malevolently.

Head spinning Padmé's eyes were wide, horror written over her features, as she realized what she already knew. "No..."

"Oh yes. And you will be severely punished. I'll make sure of it." The world tilted again, growing dark, so she couldn't see. Looking around she tried to see but was blinded. A sudden snap-hiss of a lightsaber lit up the blackness, the red hue enough to make out the familiar dark figure moving towards her. She tried to run, but felt as thought she was being held in place. Padmé screamed as the blade swung towards her neck, the searing pain cutting through-

Padmé shot up in her bed, sweat drenching her naked body. She took a minute to breath. It's all your fault. She could taste salt of her tears on her tongue, her mind still replaying the dream. It was true, she knew, all the destruction taking place out there was her fault. She had made it all possible.

After a while, when it became clear that sleep wasn't an option, she got out of bed. Finding her her robe and putting it on, she stood by the window, lost in a line of negative thoughts.

I truly must congratulate you Amidala, you have single-handedly destroyed the thing you have worked so hard to protect.

Padmé sighed, rubbing her hand over her forehead, the all to familiar feeling of guilt dragging her shoulders down.

You are a murderer.

Sliding down against the wall, she sat on the floor in a fetal position, her head leaned back against it, tears sliding down her cheeks. "Oh, Cordé. Please forgive me." Salt water dripped down on her collarbone, before sliding down her neck into her robe. "Forgive me." Her eyes wandered to the calendar hanging above her desk, staring at it blankly, before her eyes moved to the clock.

Wiping the tears away, she stood, collecting herself. Shedding her robe, she walked over to her walk-in, she sifted through her closet. After a few minutes, she pulled a out long indigo dress. After squirming into it, she examined herself.

The dress was a low cut V plunge, showing off a bit of the inside of her breasts. Turning, she eyed the back. The back of the dress was temptingly cut out, ending in a sharp point, the skirts pulling up in back, accentuating her derrière. The dress was figure hugging, moulding itself to her body, before flaring out into a large skirt, that dragged as she walked. Bits and pieces of flashed out, seductive enough to drive any man to insanity.

Sitting in front of her vanity, she immediately set about fixing her eyes, which had grown reddish and puffy due to crying. Covering them in concealer, she added just enough makeup to make her eyes sparkle, hiding the pain and guilt so that it was not visible to the average eye. She decided to add a few swipes of mascara enhancing her already thick lashes. She applied a deep red matte lipstick, giving her lips a soft, velvety look. Finding a pair of dangling silver earrings with matching shoes, she quickly pairing them with her outfit. Padmé pulled her hair up onto the top of head, arranging it so it gradually spilled down her back, the luscious curls seductively brushing her bare back.

Padmé gave herself a a quick one-over, pleased with what she saw.

Feeling satisfied, she left to a date alone at the Opera.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm not sure I'm satisfied with this chapter, but felt it's long enough. I know, I know, it's been four chapters, when will the romance start!? Soon. Very soon, don't worry. I know most people have their characters meet in like, chapter two, but I'm trying not to rush into it. I don't know about you, but I love dragging out the romance. If I read a story that's got forty-two chapters, and they're together at chapter seven, it's just boring and useless (unnecessary) drama. En-e-wayy...things are about to get interesting. Soon. Hope you enjoyed, don't be scared to tell me how you felt about it, thanks and love you all.**

xx,

Christina.

May the force be with you.

Fun Fact: I have a phobia of approaching objects.

Word count: 5566

New updates every two weeks!


	8. V: Operas and Golden Eyes

**V. Operas And Golden Eyes**

 **A/N: Who wants an update? I love you guys. Mwah!**

The beautiful, swirling patterns from the opera light up the ceiling, reflecting down on the smooth durasteel floor. The room is large and spacious, surprisingly clean despite the lack of use. The soft music could be heard floating around the room though the glass. It smells of fragrance, unlike the stale, dusty smell she had expected. It is completely empty, as though it had been deserted, but not at all dusty, like it was often used, but left without leaving a trace of a visit. It is situated almost like a large bay window, boxed off to the rest of the opera.

When she had entered, she was surprised that the door hadn't hesitated from lack of use. The room was like a house that had been recently been moved out of, clean and empty, but not appearing unused.

Walking forward, she was enchanted by the the amazing room. Why had it been closed? It was magnificent. She was surprised that the emperor hadn't claimed it as his own. Looking at the ceiling where the reflections glowed like an purple aurora borealis of Naboo, she felt a euphoric laugh of disbelief bubbling out her throat. She decided, then and there, to claim this room as her own.

Stepping forward until she could look down at the view she was really anticipating, she sucked in a breath. It was magnificent. Individual seats cover the bottom, slanting upward like bleachers, before the more expensive, more comfortable seats began. The luxury seats were at the top, amongst which the the Emperor sat. But, above him, above all the spectators, above the presentation itself, stood Padmé Amidala.

And it was where she would stay.

This was hers.

* * *

Palpatine sat comfortably in his booth, quite happy to be enjoying the night off to do nothing but watch his stupid, sappy opera. As he sits there, paying more attention to his dastardly evil schemes he was thinking up than the performance, he feels it, a slow darkness creeping over the room. The dark side surges through the building powerfully, the strong force pulse intentionally manifesting itself. So, he was back already. Impressive. He obviously needed a more challenging mission, but Palpatine knew the senator would create enough of a challenge for the young Sith. He breathed in deeply as another wave of the the dark side hit him.

Yes, Darth Vader had arrived.

Staring down at the hundreds of people below, she couldn't deny the sudden feeling of superiority and power that washed over her.

She had been so entranced in her delight, that she never noticed the dark shadow take life from the dimness around her until it was leaning over shoulder, practically breathing down her neck.

She is just watching the performance from her amazing view, when she feels a soft whoosh of hot air on the back of her neck. At first, she pays it no mind, her focus on the opera, but when her focus suddenly shifts from the opera to the glass, she vaguely sees her own reflection, and another, right over her shoulder. Her eyes narrow, before widening as she whirls, to find herself standing face-to-face with a much more impressive version of the reflection.

He was tall. Nearly a foot over her, she suddenly felt incredibly small compared to him. Even through the large black robes that covered his body she could clearly see that he was quite muscular. His hair, a rich brownish-blond color frames his face, just nearly brushing the back of his collar. Eyes, with the color of spun honey swimming in the depths of their violet-blue irises, decorated with long eyelashes, pierce into her own. Skin, tanned and darkened from the sun, was almost golden. Lips, full and plump, were parted slightly, pulling up a little at the corners.

He was exotic.

He was beautiful.

And he smelled amazing.

Padmé backed away slightly, realizing exactly how close he was. Beautiful or not, something told her that, despite the fact that he had managed to magically appear in the room (without her hearing the door open or any other indication that anyone had been near, which, come to think of it, was a bit strange...), made her feel that he wasn't exactly someone she should be standing really close to. His very presence exuded power and authority, and something else, something deeper, something darker.

Shocked, and a bit unsettled at the sudden appearance of her new companion, she just stares at him for a moment, trying to make sense of the situation. "I'm sorry, I... I wasn't aware that the room was... reserved."

The tiny smiled that had teased his lips grew before turning into an unsettlingly devious smile. "It isn't." His voice is deep and soft, the words rolling off his tongue, drawing her eyes to the area. She stared at it in almost morbid fascination, wanting nothing more than to hear the sound again. "It appears, Senator, that you just so happened to stumble upon a little haunt of mine."

Padmé blinked, glancing around the room before looking back at... him. "You... this is... you come here often?"

"Sometimes. Once a week."

Immediately forgetting her shock and slight unease at his sudden appearance, curiosity takes over her. "Why?"

"I'm guessing that that grossly phrased fragment is to be interpreted, 'why am I here'?"

"I don't mean to pry, it's just, you don't (so far, as she had only known him over the expanse of ten seconds) strike me as someone who would find the Opera... entertaining."

An eyebrow rises as curiosity gave way to amusement. "Oh?"

"No."

"I see." He leans back, crossing his arms over his broad chest, another action that seemed to fascinate her.

Padmé watched him a minute, and he reciprocated the action, obviously content to leave her guessing.

She narrows her eyes, mirroring him with a huff. "Well?"

He smiles almost condescendingly down at her. Oh force. Those dimples. "Well, what?"

Padmé instantly understood that this man was the kind that gave you gray hairs far before your time, and inwardly seethed. Something about this him already pricked her temper. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's rude to answer someone's question with another question?"

He smirks. "Didn't you just do that?"

Padmé smiled victoriously. "There, you just - what do you mean, I didn't... oh wait..." Her smile dropped as she realized how she had just done the same thing she had just accused him of. "Well... it's rude to avoid the question."

"Why the curiosity?"

Ha! She could catch him in his own game here. He might be the... whatever he was, but wordplay was her arena. "You just avoided the question."

"So did you."

Padmé wanted to slap him. "Did anyone ever tell you that it's rude to play dumb with someone when they are trying to talk to you?"

"Did anyone ever tell you that it's bad to pry?"

Padmé felt her eyebrow twitch minutely. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that you should be honest and open?"

"Did anyone ever tell you not to talk to strangers?" The corner of his eyes crinkle slightly. Kriff him, he was enjoying this. And he was so maddeningly calm, meeting her badly veiled insults with ease. He could clearly go on like this for hours.

"Didn't anyone tell you not to reprimand someone you don't know, daddy?" Her voice was sickly-sweet.

"Aren't you just doing that?" He countered.

With a head full of white hairs, she amended. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're annoying?"

"Did anyone ever tell you you're nosy?"

Padmé was sputtering. "You... you... I hate you."

"I hate you more."

Padmé glowered at him. After a moments of him looking back in unabashed amusement he started to chuckle. A chuckle that soon evolved to a snicker. A few seconds later that snicker turned to a full blown laugh, his deep chortles dissolving her boiling temper, leaving her staring at him in slight awe. He was just so... beautiful when he laughed. Glorious. The sound of his laughter stirred up something inside her.

Laughter.

It was not something she heard often these days. These were stressful times for the galaxy, especially people in circumstances such as herself. Padmé did not have much of a life outside of work, and the turn that the galaxy had taken hadn't exactly been the most laughable for anyone. It was a rare treat for her and she reveled in it.

Her stance had softens and she found herself joining in with him, laughing at her eccentric behavior, and how easily she had allowed herself to get so riled up by a compete stranger.

She laughed softly before gracefully extending her hand to...him. "Padmé Amidala." He shook it, his gloved hand warm and large, completely swallowing her small one.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Senator Amidala," He said formally, mirth dancing in his clear blue eyes.

Padmé frowned slightly. "How do you you know who I am?"

He let out a short bark of a laugh, startling her and causing her to jump. "How could I not?"

Padmé was quite aware of her large reputation. Of course he knew who she was. But he didn't at all seem shy or too timid in her presence to through insults at her, no, quite the opposite. So either he didn't care, or he was just rude, or was smart enough to realize that she was human too, or, he was someone of exalted position himself and, being so, was smart enough to realize that she was human too. Nice. Strange, though, his name wasn't familiar to her. In fact she couldn't quite even remember it...

It suddenly struck her that he hadn't even told her his name. "And you?"

His smirked, a dark, elusive expression that sent chills up her spine. "That, love, is for me to know and you to find out."

Padmé narrowed her eyes at him. "You're quite the evasive one, aren't you?"

"I was told never to give out my information to strangers."

She huffs, turning back to look at what she had originally intended to watch. "You never told me why you are here."

"You never told me why you want to know.''

Padmé didn't miss a beat. "Because you won't tell me. And stop avoiding the question."

"You were right in your deduction that I am not one prone to the Opera, but an..." He paused, phrasing his words carefully, "elderly friend of mine has quite the attachment to it, and often forces me to join him."

Raising an eyebrow, she turned back to give him her full attention. "Elderly friend?"

He hummed in response, leaning against the wall, his arms still crossed. When it became clear that he wasn't going to say more, she moved on. "And how did you find this?" She made a gesture with her hand around the room.

He only graced her with a indulgent smile.

Padmé rolled her eyes, turning back to the window. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

He materialized beside her, so close she could feel the warmth radiating off him. "I never really paid any attention to it, to be honest."

Padmé turning to face him and found herself trapped, her back pressed against the wall. "Who are you?"

He laughed, but it wasn't the same carefree laugh. It was a deep, sinister sound that chilled her, causing her hair to stand up on the back of her neck, a sliver of fear running down back, strangely enticing her. "One day, you'll find out."

Padmé frowned slightly, trying to understand what he means. What did he mean? Did that mean he would eventually tell her? And what was it about him that was so...dark. Staring into those eyes, she found another mystery. His eyes had changed back. Swirls of gold mixed in with the momentarily pure blue. Padmé stared into them, mystified by their constant changing. Was he even human? He looked human, but he must be mixed with something else. "You..."

He was watching her, his eyes boring into her own, as if he was searching for something. "What?"

Padmé took this chance to study him up close. His brows were slightly drawn together in concentration. His eyes were sharp and cutting, the kind that seem to see right through her, unearthing all her secrets. His lips were so undeniably kissable, with soft curves and slopes. Even Padmé was forced to admit that he was extremely attractive. Although she was not one given to relationships, she couldn't deny that this man had a strange charisma about him that was quite...nice.

"Your eyes...they changed."

He hummed as the golden color slowly ebbed away, his eyes becoming baby blue again. "Better?"

Padmé stared hard into his eyes, searching for any trace of the liquid gold that had decorated his eyes, only to find none. She blinked, searching again. "You can change your eye color?"

He smirked lightly. "In a manner of speaking."

He could change the color of his eyes? How was that even possible? "Are you human?' She asked bluntly.

He hummed again in reply. Apparently, that was his response whenever he didn't feel the need to answer her.

Applause erupted all around her, causing her to remember where she was and what she came for. She looked down at the opera, realizing that she had only watched some of it, too busy talking to him and exploring the room. Even still, her mind was ablaze with so many questions that she knew that he wouldn't answer. She turned back at him to bid him farewell for the night to find the room empty, as if she had imagined his presence. Feeling disoriented, she glances around, but, seeing no one, she shook her head in a troubled fashion before heading home.

* * *

Vader watches as the senator leave the room, light amusement seeping into him at her confusion. So. That was the Senator Amidala. Interesting. How very convenient for her to come straight to him rather than having to seek her out. From his brief meeting with her, he knew he could learn to like the woman. She had so much potential. But along with being quite the straightforward person, she was also easy to miff. He had spent the entire evening attacking that particular area of her, curious to how she would respond. She had probably considered him just being difficult and unnecessarily reticent about himself, but he had been carefully testing her, enjoying her sharp responses along the way. Her temper could be fixed, and her curiosity needed taming. A curiosity like that could get her killed in his world. But, all and all, she was quite feisty. He knew he would have a fun time "playing" around with her.

Challenge.

If there was one thing Vader was fond of, it was a challenge. His job was far from an easy one, but he had learned to cope with such a time consuming career. Unfortunately, most of his missions consisted of dealing with presumptuous narrow minded fools, or destroying the rebels and ripping information from their minds.

Senator Amidala was strangely different from the other political filth the littered the galaxy. She seemed to be in earnest, looking towards the betterment of the galaxy, unlike all those pushing for their own agenda. Misguided though she was, with training and someone to point her in the right direction, she could do great things. She had wealth, influence, respect of the people, and beauty. With time she could learn to use her charms to her advantage. She was the exact type of woman to make a man fall before her at a glance, and the kind of smile that several would go great lengths to see.

Large, deep, chocolate brown eyes, luscious chestnut hair, a beautiful and flawless complexion, and a pretty and petite figure, she would make a desirable seductress if necessary. Yes, she could be a great ally. But she didn't seem like someone to just give up her ideals readily. She would need a great deal of convincing. And Vader was more than willing.

Sitting down on the cool floor with his legs crossed in a meditative position, he stared a the floor as his eyes changed, the golden color reappearing, swirling in his irises, before covering all of the blue, practically dripping with liquid gold, before growing a sickly yellow-red.

The Senator Amidala was going to be a challenge.

A sadistic smile spreads across his lips.

Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

* * *

Crack.

The lifeless body crumpled to ground, eyes vacant and unseeing.

But he wasn't satisfied. He wanted-needed something more to soothe his anger. Igniting his lightsaber, her tore through rebels, destroying everything in his path. The light side of the force cried out in death, while the dark side sang, humming with suffering, greedily drinking in the pain. But it wasn't enough. He needed more. Death, destruction, the ruin of a kriffing planet if that would calm him down.

He was steaming, and it wasn't enough. The dark side had manifested itself visibly on him, the dark patterns swirling around his body. His stilled, becoming as stiff as a board, as a strong force pulse bust out of him, forcibly destroying all life around him. The ground shook, splitting open. All around him the wind whirled, blowing at his robes. The sky had become dark, lightning lighting up the sky, grumbling and occasionally striking the ground. Trees splintered and twisted, cracking, falling to the ground, the eruption of the Force extending out around him, destroying everything in its path for miles, before slowly tapering off, leaving the whole battlefield empty.

And just like that, the rumbling stopped, and everything became still as Vader breathed deeply, caging the monster within, becoming calm, as he looked around at the ruins of the once majestic planet. The wind stopped. Trees, fallen and twisted litter the ground. Gorges and muddy rivers fell down the bottomless cracks the had ripped through the planet. Scattered bodies lay strewn across the ground, smoke and the stench of blood rising from the ground.

Then the rain.

It suddenly came, and within a a few minutes, the it was pouring. The heavens opened up, and the rain came over the land, which resembled a now desolate and destroyed battlefield.

Vader looked up, breathing heavily and letting the rain fall on his face. Closing his eyes, he just stood there, allowing it to soothe him, feeling a calm settle over him. Opening his eyes, which were now a beautiful blue, the dark side receding, he began walking to his ship.

It was time to go home.

* * *

"Today, we follow the amazing story of Darth Vader, from his appearance several years ago to who he is today." The news woman was pretty, with long black lashes on her wide and startlingly icy blue eyes, her edgy black bob smooth clean cut.

Padmé paused, flipping back to settle on the channel, interested on what they could have to say abut Vader. Everyday they spoke a little about him, and about some of his newest exploits in cleaning up those "rebel scum", but never had anyone used him as the topic of the day. Settling back in her couch with her breakfast and blanket, she decided to watch.

"From Vader's appearance four years ago, he immediately began the overwhelming task of purging the empire. No one knows anything of his history or how exactly he and the Emperor Sheev Palpatine met, or how Vader came in league with him. Most of the time Vader stays hidden, and his only real appearances are on the battlefield, where he shows himself to be a capable and skilled fighter, single-handedly protecting the empire. Even one of the greatest Ma'ATa's of our day, Cherna Luna says, 'There was never really anything to say about Vader, due to no one knowing where he came from and who he is.' "

"But today we take an inside view on Vader through the eyes of some of the Imperials who work with him everyday."

The blonde woman who had been nodding and listening to her companion spoke up."Yes, actually, sitting right here with us live we have Admiral Paddit here to speak about his personal experience with Vader, right after the break."

Padmé huffed in annoyance. Kriffing commercial break. She was just starting to get interested. Was there actually something to Vader or was the media just spewing out nonsense? Looking down at her forgotten cereal, she groaned, seeing that it was already soggy. She walked back to the sink, pouring it down the drain, the whole time grumbling about 'stupid commercials' and 'blasted imperials' and 'hateful soggy cereal', as she washed the other dishes, deciding to grab breakfast at the café on the way to lunch.

"And we're back, with, 'Living with Darth Vader: An Inside Look'."

Padmé dumped the dishes unceremoniously in the sink. Rushing into the living room, she quickly jumped on the couch. Geez, she had suddenly turned into an addict. But she couldn't deny that a part of her had always been curious about Vader. Just what thoughts went went through his head?

Just one look at the Admiral gave Padmé all she needed to know. He had a polite smile on while sitting ramrod straight in his chair, dressed in Imperial clothing. Although he was slightly leaned back with his hand on the table, he was alert and almost stiff, which gave him away immediately.

"So tell us, what's it like dealing with Lord Vader on a day-to-day basis?"

"First off, I just want to say I'm really honored to be here, and that Lord Vader sends his deepest regrets that he can't be here, but you have to understand that Vader is a very busy man and job like his can be difficult. But about working with him, Vader doesn't accept anything but the best. You have to be very sharp when dealing with him. He really like to keep us up on our toes."

"How do you feel about how most people believe him to be, such as Rathia Marthens comment, 'Vader is a bloodthirsty, evil, short-tempered, and twisted creature, who gets away with the death of innocent people.' ?"

Padmé paused. Rathia Mathens was a very famous singer, and quite well known. What wasn't well known, was that she was a benefactor to the rebellion and had housed rebels several times.

"That's very interesting, because just last afternoon, she was questioned and found guilty of being a rebel sympathizer. She will, of course, be dealt with accordingly, by Lord Vader himself. But I believe that statement entirely untrue. First of all, allow me to break it apart. I do not believe Vader to be 'bloodlusting'. In all the time I have spent with him, he's never killed for pleasure. He told me once, 'Death is unavoidable in life, but it would be wasteful to kill for none other than sadistic pleasure. Those who do die, die for a reason.' It was something that I've never forgotten, and more than likely never will."

Padmé blinked. Rathia had been caught. One of their greatest benefactors had been found. A feeling of anxiety overcame Padmé. Exactly how much did the woman know about the rebels? It was of no consequence of how much would she say if Lord Vader was questioning her. She only hoped that the woman didn't know much.

"The next part, of Vader being evil, I strongly disagree with. Vader is a very straightforward man. He will do whatever it take to establish order for the whole galaxy. His practice in dark arts and studies of the force are his means of power, something that he's always had, and it helps on the battlefield. I think he deserves praise for his actions, not defamation."

Padmé raised an doubtful eyebrow.

"The same goes for being a 'twisted creature'. A lot of the media portrays him that way, and I believe it's unfair. Vader is a man who fights for peace and justice, a thing that those rebels have tried to destroy, and I think it's appalling how unfair and judgmental people can be, when they have never know anything about him."

"The bit about him being short-tempered, that part is true. But it's expected of a the head of military to be hard on us. It creates order, and relaxing it would cause issues at the base, making it harder for him to do his job out there. I believe that everyone who signed up to work for the Empire knew what the were getting into, and understands that any good commander is expected on his troops. He, however, does have a short temper, and although it may manifest in different ways than others, that's part of who he is, and anyone who gets caught under his wrath deserves it. Mistakes are not tolerated in the Empire, large or small."

Padmé had to acknowledge that fact. Perhaps Vader deserved some credit for his work. Maybe he might actually care about his troops. But he was fighting for the wrong team. And, caring or not, that was no excuse for at least some of his behavior.

"And, you know, You also have to take in mind that Vader has a very stressful and difficult job, so he's allowed to be a bit, "He paused, seeming to be trying to find the right words, "snappish at times.

But you can ask anyone on Imperial center, and they'll tell you that he really does care about his troops and leaves no man behind.

So I think that I have successfully managed to explain his situation, and why he his what he is. But all-in-all, I quite like him, and working with him is quite an experience."

"Well, there you have it, Living with Darth Vader: An Inside Look, giving you an in depth view. Just this morning he obliterated an entire army himself on Voss, am I right?"

"You are."

Padmé sat up again. Vader had obliterated the army on Voss? Why was she just hearing about this? A part of her was shocked, and another part of her wasn't. The entire army. Gone. It wasn't as though they had unlimited supply. If Vader kept this up, they would have nothing left, the people would stop supporting their cause, and the rebel alliance would become nothing.

They would need more recruits. And getting recruits was her job.

"As you can see behind me, we have some pictures taken just this morning, where he was apparently giving those rebels what they deserve."

The next showed the expanse of land after Vader left, and Padmé involuntarily gasped. Just what had he done? The entire place had been destroyed, completely ruined.

"Well, thank you for taking the time to come talk to us, giving us a better view on what goes on in Imperial center, and Lord Vader. We appreciate it."

The Imperial gave a more relaxed smile. "Hey, no problem."

"Alright coming up next, we delve into the mystery of several Senators' strange disappearance, and after that we have photos of Senator Amidala, killing this seductive dress while at the Oprea. More detail on whether or not she was meeting someone, next."

Padmé abruptly shut off the viewscreen, just sitting in silence. She had no desire to listen to them speculate on her love life. She wasn't there to meet anyone. She had only intended to spend the night alone in that mysterious room when she had been discovered.

Her though wondered back to her mysterious friend who had managed to occupy her thoughts, keeping her up late. Even now, she couldn't tell if it had been real or an imagined encounter.

He was just so...

And those lips. Force.

Padmé snorted at her own thoughts. Oh well. If he was a fantasy, a girl could dream, couldn't she? Walking through the door, she paused only to grab some credits for breakfast.

* * *

After that, she would go straight to the Senate building.

It was time to go home.

Talk?

Padmé stared bemusedly down at her comm.

Talk?

Talk?

Palpatine wanted to talk?

If she had been foolish and stupid, she would have jumped at the chance. Now, she was wary.

She had just received a message from the Emperor, requesting a meeting with her. He said that he had decided that it had been far too long since he took the time to listen to his most respected colleagues, and had determined that since she was by far one of he most 'selfless' and 'brightest' and 'morally correct' senators he knew, he had asked her to come and tell him all the flaws she saw in the Empire, and discuss some solutions.

It was obviously a trap. There was no doubt the old man was trying to find a way to trap her in her words and band her as a traitor.

Well. She'd just have to outwit him, wouldn't she?

* * *

The receptionist raised a finger at Padmé, asking her to hold her though a moment. "...Yes, yes ma'am, but you must understand, the Emperor is a busy man... I'm sure he will be able to make arrangements to... I'll schedule you... alrighty then, thank you, bye!" Disconnecting the call, she swiveled in her chair to face Padmé. "Can I help you Ma'am?"

"I have a meeting with the Emperor."

She turned to her computer and after a few clicks she nodds. "I'm sorry, but the Emperor is busy. If you would like to schedule a meeting for later, or maybe come back in a few minutes, and I'm sure he'll be able to-"

Padmé immediately felt her ire begin to rise. Palpatine had requested a meeting with her, then, he decided to have an meeting with someone else? Half the time most of the people who came to see the Emperor never got to see him. Then he had the nerve to have a another meeting, when she was supposed to meet him.

"What?" The one word was loaded with coldness and malice.

"I"m sorry." The woman gave her a sympathetic look as though she had seen the happen a hundred times.

She probably had.

"Listen, I can't just wait until the Emperor is done, I have other things to do. Please, at least, let him know that I'm here."

The receptionist hesitated. "Ma'am, if you could just please wait just a few minutes, he's talking to an important...he is talking a special surprise guest. You can go in, but it would probably be better to-"

"Let him know I'm coming." Padmé pushed into the room, not caring if she disrupted Palpatine and his 'special surprise guest'. He had a meeting with her, and she wanted to get it over with. Deal with it.

Padmé strode into the room to find Palpatine talking to the back of someone who seemed quite familiar.

Whirling around, it turned to her.

There was no mistaking that figure.

Vader.

Wearing all back, his outfit was very similar to his outfit when she met him. He was even taller up close. She hadn't noticed how large Vader was until she saw him this close, he was nearly a foot taller than her, and it fact that he was very well built and standing up a few feet above her didn't help. Now that she was closer to him, she noticed she could see only his mouth, the rest of his face disappearing into his hood.

Her walk ended abruptly.

So this was the surprise guest that she was told to avoid.

Padmé stood frozen in the room, before slowly her breathing picked up suddenly, almost to the point of hyperventilation.

Palpatine stood there with a satisfied smile, enjoying her her reaction. "Amidala my dear, you know my apprentice, Darth Vader, yes?"

Padmé didn't hear him. Her eyes focused only on Vader, watching in horror the only visible feature under hood, those sinfully red lips turned up in a feral, malicious grin, revealing two rows of ivory teeth.

Doing the only thing to make it worse, he started walking towards her as she stood there, frozen. She could only watch as he took her hand in his large gloved one, his long fingers curling around her hand as he brought it to his lips, kissing it softly, that same smile never leaving his face. "Senator Amidala." He purred, the words rolling off his tongue, his voice deep and velvety. "How nice to see you...again."

 **A/N: Do you love me yet? I'm really happy about the length of this chapter. My first two were short, but come on, they were the first. However, I average around 4,800-5000, but this one was 5,663. Okay. Thanks, Christina, for that random useless trivia. This is why you don't read stories from a fourteen year old. Whatever, man.**

 **Can't wait for the next chapter?**

 **Well, you can read more chapters for free on wattpad! Just google 'the Sith who stole my heart' and open the wattpad version: story/74463338-the-sith-who-stole-my-heart-a-star-wars-story. You don't need an account, and it's very easy to use. And, you can check out my other StarWars oneshot story, 'I'll let him go...eventually' on my page, ChristinaGreenlaw14.**

 **But that's all I have for you guys today, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did please be sure to give this a big thumbs up (Vote), because it's 1:37 in the morning and I could get in trouble for this. And I'll see you guys next time with Chrizzztina. Okay byee! (Modified Liza Koshy outro, lol.)**

 **xx,**

 **Christina.**

 **Fun Fact: It's 1:37 AM here. Wow. Bet you didn't know that.**

 **Word count: 5663**

 **New updates every two weeks!**


	9. VI: What He Sees

**A/N: Here it is! For all of the amazing support I have been getting, I decided to slave away to make a new chapter. Enjoy!**

 _"Senator Amidala." He purred, the words rolling off his tongue, his voice deep and velvety. "How nice to see you... again."_

She eyes him, her wary gaze never leaving his. He has to admire her acting skills. If he couldn't smell her fear, if he couldn't sense every thought running through her head, if he had been another mindless idiot, he may have thought that she didn't fear him, but was merely cautious.

But he could, and he wasn't.

He couldn't have helped but sink his teeth into bottom lip as his malicious smile grew. He wouldn't deny that he found this situation highly entertaining. Upon his return to Coruscant, he had immediately come here, but he somehow he'd been graced to find her here as well. Well, well. What have we here? Only his delightful friend from the Opera.

He knew he isn't alone in his delight at the current situation. He knows his Master had a long time wanted to introduce him to the senator, and while he finds it enjoyable, his Master revels in it.

She nods stiffly back at him, and he has to contain his laughter. Instead, he decides to give her a moment to gather herself, walking past his Master's desk, standing on the right side behind the seat. Palpatine follows suit, going to sit at his desk, gesturing at her to sit in one of the chairs before him. After a moment's hesitation, she does, edging into to her seat as though she's afraid that he would lose it and kill her. She sits down painstakingly, her eyes never leaving Vader. It's clear that's she was far more used to his Master's presence, but his has her feeling on edge.

"Well, now that everyone has been introduced, we'll get right to business. I promise Senator, I had not been expecting Vader, and I'm sure that if he had been previously aware of our previous engagement he would not have interrupted. Vader will just wait here until we are done, then he and I will continue our talk."

The young senators gaze never wavered from her current cause of distress. "I've know you long enough, Emperor," she spat the last word as though it was an curse, "To never trust any promise from you. You promised that you would uphold peace and justice, you promised to uphold democracy, you promised release of emergency powers, the lack of bloodshed, the lack of war, you promised so many things. I've learned not to give an sith's hell for your kriffing promises." The words were calm and diplomatic, but venomous.

He hid his amusement, not allowing her to see a hint of humor on his lips, though he feels it strongly. His Master was a lying, deceitful, untrustworthy manipulator, and the fact that she said it to his face brought him great pleasure. Perhaps though an common enemy he could bring her to his side.

His Master had no qualms about expressing his joy at her statement freely. "You are quite right. You see, as long as _he,_ " Palpatine gestured over his shoulder at Vader, "Is here, it really doesn't matter what promises I break."

Her gaze switched from Vader to Palpatine. "Bastard." She spat out.

Just like that, the atmosphere changed. In less than a second, his Master's good mood left, the dark side growing heavy in the room. Vader breathed it in appreciatively. "You dare insult me Amidala? I am the Emperor of the galaxy. I could have you hung this very instant for twitching you brow wrongly. Or maybe Vader might find an even better form of punishment and make you live through it." He hissed, his eyes an menacing yellow-red.

She wants to retort, he can tell. It was in the way her mocha eyes narrowed. In the way she inhaled sharply though her small nose. In the way her right _eyebrow twitched_ minutely _._ In the way the veins in her smooth, pale neck strained slightly. In the way her brow came down, in the way her full lips pursed cutely together, the way the air and force around her became tense and thick.

But she didn't.

Why?

Normally, she would have shot him down in front of the whole senate, and let him know that he couldn't harm her.

So...

Why not now?

Fear.

It is easy to believe that one is bluffing when there is no gun pointed at your head.

But there was.

He didn't miss her eyes flicking towards him briefly, or the way her eyes fell to his waist where she knew his beloved lightsaber hung.

After calming herself, as well as giving his Master a chance to do the same, she spoke, her gaze level and direct. "Very well. If that's the case then, my deepest, most insincere apologies."

Palpatine sighed sadly, his mood changing again. "Now Amidala. Sometimes I don't understand your behavior. We used to get along so well, and I-," Here his voice broke pathetically. "I just wish that you wouldn't be so difficult. You've become so cold, and hate your old man so. I think of you as a daughter you know, and now you just seem to be hitting your puberty mood swings."

Her thoughts are rich to him. So very entertaining.

 _How dare he ever even think...I never thought him as my father...bastard...son of a hutt...how dare he...I ought to give him a piece of my mind...that rotting, worthless, evil, rotten, wrinkle butted, manipulative, domineering, cruel, bantha crappish, ars-asteroid. I've got half a mind to seduce his apprentice just to snatch his weapon and skewer him with it, Vader style. I wonder if I could actually get away with it...calm down Padmé. We would want to offend his royal wrinkle butt, would we?_

Yes _. Very_ entertaining _._

He somehow doubted the his Master (a.k.a: _his royal wrinkle butt_ ,) would agree.

She glowered at him."We'll get right to business, shall we?"

Palpatine leaned back in his seat.

Padmé's gaze goes back to the younger of the sith, one eyebrow raised. After a moment she finally speaks, her voice soft and quiet, probably trying to make sure she doesn't prick his ire. "Lord Vader. Although an honor to make your acquaintance, I am here for a meeting with the Emperor, and I prefer to keep it...confidential."

He crosses his arms behind his back, quiet a moment before answering, his voice fog surrounding an lake. "I can assure you Senator, that these lips will breathe not a word to a soul."

She stares at him, her face a mix of fascination and wary distrust. Her gaze flicks to his Master, looking at him for confirmation. "Very well. Emperor, you contacted me to talk to me about how I stand with the Empire, because you 'value my opinion', lies of course. I don't stand with it at all. I believe strongly in democracy, and you have an dictatorship. I have nothing else to say."

Palpatine leaned forward in his seat, folding his fingers against each other. "Well. Tell me, why don't you like the Empire?"

Here goes.

They watch her walk out, both smiling malevolently.

So entertaining. First she had brutalized the empire that his Master had worked so hard construct. After insult after insult, savagely ripping into their fine work, calling Palpatine a few choice words along the way, she moved to Vader, addressing him directly about his military conduct. She'd questioned him on every aspect, going so far as to question his moral capacity when it came to his forms of 'interrogation'. Vader had easily smoothed over her questions, replying with, "Morals are not something I possess, Senator. They are consuming, time wasting, and in a job such as mine, can be quite an hinderance. Without them I can work quickly and efficiently, with them I would be susceptible to weakness and hesitation. I do my job, not uphold moral standards."

It was needless to say that she was far from pleased with his answer, but she let it be, not speaking to him after that. And three hours later, far over their one-hour meeting, they watched her stride out, full of righteous indignation, evil smile plastered on their faces. His Master swirled his chair around to face Vader in a manner reminiscent of that of a child a gleeful smile on his face. "Now Vader, I sense you understand why I haven't killed her yet. I keep finding myself putting it off, just so she can entertain me. She is the only one in the whole senate, including her rebel friends who would dare speak like that to me, and the only one I would allow. Such spirt is deeply refreshing."

"Shall I try to salvage her then Master?"

"She isn't one of your ships Vader. You must be careful. But, if it can be accomplished, make it happen."

Vader nodded. "Yes, Master."

Palpatine waved him off. "Good, now that we've said as much, feel free to go. Whatever we were talking of before couldn't have been very important anyway."

"Yes, Master."

Vader exited the room without a sound.

She saw him.

And he loved it.

He walks, people all around him parting and moving away. No eyes see. No one notices. The tall, dark character cutting through the people is invisible to all around. The force bubble around him makes him unnoticeable to all eyes. He's there, of course. He is a visible creature. He can be seen. But no one sees. He walks amongst them and they don't even register him at all. It makes it easy to walk against the bustle of the city. It discourages contact, so people unconsciously walk around him not realizing that they were even doing it. They don't notice the gap in the crowd.

They don't see him.

And he likes it.

If they could, they would flee, rabbits to their burrows. And he would be the big bad wolf to make sure they never got there.

If they weren't so blind, they would recognize the threat in their midst.

They would see the black robes, stained with blood, and dirtied mud from the dirty lower levels. They would see the sliver object that brought death hanging from his waist; dangling just at his hip. They would see the void under his hood where his face should be, that black abyss, his mouth the only thing managing to catch the light. They would see him.

But they didn't.

It's simple really. It was a easy trick of the mind, making him indistinguishable and not worthy of the the mind's notice. It didn't perceive him as anything of importance, so the mind simply skimmed over him without a second thought.

It was all so easy; but if one knew how.

So he continues back toward his residence. Built with walls surrounding the building, it seem almost a fortress. He had built it almost complete replica of the Malachor temple. No one dared to trespass. It was so ominous that most really crossed the street just to avoid it. It was constantly dark, the sky brewing with turmoil over it. It was within a moment's distance of Imperial center, and the shadow always encompassed that as well, and had done so the moment Vader had come to Coruscant. Looking up, he saw the horizon of an darkened sky, and knew that he was near home. As he walked he passed by some place that had an odd smell coming out of it. It smelt like...sweet things. Pastries. He stopped abruptly. _She_ had been here, he could sense it. Recently too.

 _Well_.

He continued.

Five minutes later, he saw her.

His head snapped up suddenly, his gaze fixed on the twenty-fourth floor of the Five Hundred Republica building, and there she stands in the window, her eyes fixed on him.

Their eyes locked, even though she can't see his.

Out of the millions of people that didn't see him, she does.

And he _loved_ it.

It's a subtle parting in the crowds, but she sees it, and it's odd. She watches as it approaches, cutting through the clamor around it. Then she sees him, the robes, the glint of steel, the hood and the darkness beneath. And just like that he stops. He looks up, staring right at her and their eyes meet. She can't see his eyes, but she feels them. He stares straight at her and she stares straight at him.

Neither move, and the people just swarm around him like there's and wedge between him and the outside world, and for a moment she feel like she has a choice.

She chooses.

She backs out of view.

"Welcome home, Master, I hope things went well?" The droid immediately greeted him, removing his robe and hanging it up.

"Fairly."

"Wonderful I-Oh goodness Master, there's blood on you! Are you hurt?"

"It's not mine."

"Oh. Oh my. Oh dear. Oh goodness gracious."

"Is my dinner ready?"

"Of course, Master. I made your favorite. I left it in-."

"Good."

The golden droid watched as his Master walked through the darkened room towards his sleeping quarters where C3po had placed his dinner.

Then he began to wash his robes.

 _Four days later_

 _Opera House,_

 _Coruscant_.

From his corner his ears immediately pick up on the quiet voice outside the door. _Her_ voice.

"You can leave them right there, thank you."

The two presences that had been following her departed. After they were gone and he could feel the halls clear, the door opens and she strides in. Her hair is elaborately done in a bun on the right side of her neck, the dark tendrils that escaped just brushing her collarbone. Her alluring eyes are bright and alert, and a small smile spreads across her face as she sees the room again. Her halter neck dress hugged her figure, coming to her a little above her knees with split on both sides, up to her hips, showing that she either had her underwear pulled up high or had on none at all, exposing her toned legs. Her wedges gave her an hight that she could never naturally achieve, making her appear taller. He vaguely wonder if she had painted her fingers and toes red to match her dress. He found that women often payed attention to details like that. He had always paid attention to tiny details himself, naturally being cautious although ruthless, but oddly his nail color had never been his concern.

She looked in a moment, scanning the room briefly before she frowned, poking her lower lip out. She turned abruptly, leaving the room. When she returned, she was dragging a tall, comfortable looking, and from the smell of it, brand new chair parallel to the window. Vader watched her leave as he quietly sat in his shadowy corner. He had the strange coincidental ability to create a shadow to hide in anywhere. She back in, dragging an identical chair next to the original one. He felt a bit curious about what she was doing to his man cave, but felt no need to stop her. Yet.

He would draw the line at hanging posters of Jedi on the walls.

He kiffing hated Jedi.

She left again and returned with a blanket, a giant drinking bottle, and a bag of snacks. Like an multitasking mother with her hand full, she pushed the door button with her elbow. Walking over to her chair, she dumped her stuff next to them, and began removing her heels, setting them next to her other things. She removed her pantyhose next, at which Vader cocked his head to the side in confusion. What could the woman possibly be thinking of? She stood there a minute, scratching her leg before she went back to work. Sitting herself in the first chair (and wiggling around to get comfortable), she pulled the other closer till it touched her knees, then lifted her legs up on the armrests of it, pulling it closer and grunting with effort.

Vader was lost.

Taking her legs off the armrests, she stretched her legs on the seat of it. Then reaching down to grab her blanket, she pulled it over her, and shifted until she was comfy, looking like she was lounging on her couch. Picking out some little gummy treats she began eating them while watching the Opera below, next reaching for her drink.

She wanted a lounge?

Vader watched her contentedly bite the heads of horrendously cute shaped banthas and rancors of various colors with incredulous disbelief.

What was worse that she began talking.

And he was sure that she was unaware to his presence, which meant she was talking aloud to herself.

 _It was disturbing._

"He lied. That information retaining bastard lied. He said he'd be here. Or maybe I was making him up after all. What do you think ? Hmm?" ( _? Tell me she wasn't talking to the gummy trash)_ "and to think I spent extra money to buy him a chair just in case." Wait. She had been talking about him? Perhaps she was better off dead...

"Mmm." When she began eating them legs first he decided it was to announce himself. Walking to the side away from the opera he crouched down next to her, deftly snatching the gummy bag and eyeing the ingredients. "So, you have a thing for naming those disgusting little pieces of goop or what?"

She whipped her head around, staring at him in surprise then offense. "Those are good, thank you." She tried to get them back but he held it out her reach, still reading the label on back.

"The contents don't agree."

"You give me my gummies. How did you even get in anyway?"

He picked one out, sniffing it. "I have ways."

Padmé sighed, giving up finally. "Never mind, I have more." She dug in the bag and her hand reemerged with with some cheesy substance.

Vader ate the little gummy whole, doubting that there was special way to eat such junk. It was annoyingly... _gummy,_ a tasted like artificial fruit flavors. He sighed before grabbing a handful of them, swallowing them all, thinking about why she would waste money on this.

"You like them?"

"Not at all."

"But-"

"I'm hungry and these don't taste that bad, but why did you spend money on _this_?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Since when were you my stingy husband?"

He picked a few out of the bottom. "Being stingy has nothing to do with common sense."

"Here." She dropped a cheese puff in his hand. "Eat that."

He immediately put it in his mouth and froze. "The kriff is this?"

"Cheese puffs."

He raised an eyebrow at her, still chewing the odd crunchy, yet mysteriously dissolving 'food'. "I must question your food tastes."

"If you don't like it, why are you eating it?"

"I don't complain."

"Just question my snacks."

"Yes."

The Senator stared at him, before she pulled her legs back on her own chair, pushing the other away. "Sit."

He complied.

She stretched her legs out on his lap, pulling the blanket over them. "Who are you?"

He stared down at her feet that she had so inconsiderately placed on his lap as though he was a foot rest. "You still persist in knowing."

She gave him and impertinent look. "You know who I am, and what I do, so why shouldn't I know about you? How would I ask you, if you are real, how was your week? I have no idea what you do."

He leaned back in his seat. "Then we won't talk about me. Now, anything interesting happening to you?"

"Well, I met Darth Vader if that counts as something 'interesting'?"

He had been mostly focused on the strange little bubbles that they called an performance, but when the words 'Darth Vader' left her lips, he turned to face her so fast he could feel the bones in his neck reorganize themselves. "Oh?"

She eyed him, no doubt due to his seemingly odd behavior, nodding slowly. "Yes, Vader. Do you know him?"

Did he know Vader? How was Vader supposed to answer when being asked if he knew himself? "Very well." As well as he knew himself.

She seemed surprised at his answer. "Really?"

"Hmm."

"How did you meet?"

"Purely on accident." That part was true. A long time ago, he would have never thought of himself the way he was, and yet here he was.

She groans, turning away from him. "You're not going to tell me how, are you?"

He merely smiles.

She huffs.

"Tell me about him. What...what was he like?" He effectively switched the conversation. A part of him was curious about what she thought of him.

"Oh. Well." She exhaled, her eyebrows raised. "Well. He was so...tall, for one. And dark, and overwhelming. And just so intimidating. Almost like you. I didn't even want to think about what he could have done to me if Palpatine had found some loophole to trap me in my words and make me seem...find a reason to kill me. And his face."

"What about it?"

She stared at him incredulously. "He doesn't have one. His face is just a black abyss-like and...I mean all you can see is his mouth. It's just...it seems...But he was oddly civil."

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you think he was some sort of animal?"

"I don't know. I certainly didn't expect him to behave like an...gentleman of sorts. I've seen the destruction he has been capable of. I've worked with restoration movements to clean up his messes. I've seen the mutilated corpses and the crying women and children. The man is the cause of actions that not the strongest storms, or the greatest machinery can accomplish. So forgive me for feeling that civil conversation is not possible with him."

He folded his hand together, carefully choosing his words. "Vader is an ice cold, calculating and heartless murderer, but is not as he is originally perceived. I would not go so far as to say there is anything good in him, but I do know that looks can be...deceptive. What they see is what they think, and they are oblivious to several things about him. For instance, just because he is what he is doesn't mean he can't carry on a formal conversation."

"When I addressed him he didn't at all even try to deny that he has murdered people out of rage saying, 'I am what I am therefore I do what I do.' And when I asked if he has any morals at all he just said he had no time for them."

"Maybe he was right."

"How well do you know him? It seems that you almost agree with him."

He leaned forward staring straight into her eyes. "I know Vader better than I know myself."

She watches him, her eyes wary. "And you approve of his principles then?"

"Of course."

She stares at him trying to tell if he's joking. He's not. "How can you? Can't you see what's wrong with the system? With the war, and bloodshed and everything else going on?"

He gives her an calculating look. "The war will end when the opposition sees the truth." His voice is even, certain.

She sputtered, her eyes holding disbelief and her eyebrows drawn down. "See the truth? What truth? That Palpatine's tyranny over then is the right thing? That Vader is actually the good guy? That the galaxy should be under the control of that power hungry lunatic? Because if that's what you mean, then I might as well fight alongside them."

"You believe that the rebels are right then?"

"How could I not? Think about it. Don't you see anything wrong with what's going on out there? Palpatine promised peace and democracy. Then he creates an Empire? How can you not see all the corruption, the lies? Do you approve of the Emperor's behavior?"

He let a low laugh. "I will not deny that the leadership is corrupt, but I think you don't realize how the Empire is better for the galaxy."

She snorts, tossing her head to the side, her dark curls bouncing. "How can you believe that? An Empire is good for no galaxy, believe me. A constitutional republic is what this galaxy needs."

He stares at her, trying to find a shred of humor in her face. "You truly believe that? You see where that lead us. To an Empire, the finest thing the ever happened to this galaxy. For once, there is peace and equality. The same rules for all. And once the rebels are done, all of this needless bloodshed will be over."

"Palpatine has been using Vader to frighten people into silence, killing anyone in opposition to him. He doesn't want to help the people. All he wants is power and I'll be dammed if I just sit and watch. If people could learn to set aside their selfish desires, they could change the way things are. There would be no Empire, and we could find what Palpatine has destroyed. We could a work to a brighter future. It could change everything. Don't you see?"

Vader sat back in his chair, crossing his fingers. She was severely off in her political views to even consider that possible. But perhaps..."Ah." He snapped his fingers. "You're an political idealist aren't you?"

"Well,-"

He let out a short laugh. "That's the problem right there. Idealism is a nice fairytale, but we are faced with a much more complicated situation than that. You see, I'm a realist, with no time for a world of make believe. Look around you Amidala. We are surrounded with corrupted, selfish beings. They will not change. Even if there were an constitutional republic, it would never work. We are surrounded by self-centeredness, evil, greed, lust, and all other abominable and foolish acts of behavior. These beloved citizens that you believe want freedom, look at them. They had choices. They chose the Empire. There is no help for them. Such a system will collapse as it always does, and someone powerful enough to fight off those too stubborn and drunk on their crimes will take over and establish order. He will take the power out of their greedy hands, and will force the truth on them."

He breathed deeply, calming himself. "People who are doing wrong will rarely fix it themselves unless someone makes them, Amidala. As far as idealism goes, it would be a nice fantasy. Unfortunately, we live in a real world. That could never happen, not for galaxy, not ever. Human beings are faulty, defective, and are quick to forget who they are. I'm not trying to be a pessimist, but not everyone is as pure hearted as you. This is the only way, the only it will so help me if I have to run it myself."

She is silent, drinking in his words. He can hear her inner battle, and when he reaches in her mind he is overwhelmed at the amount of fear and dread in her. He understands why. She worries that despite that she can never stop in what she knows to be right, a part of her knows he's right as well. And it chills her to the bone.

Beauty.

She suddenly looks up at him, her dark eyes boring into his. He stares back at her, taking in her looks. Lucious mahogany curls twisted into an elaborate bun on her neck. Tannned smooth skin, enough to trigger any man's lust and inspire every woman's envy. Mocha eyes, deep and searching, that perpetual brokenness in them, trimmed with long, thick lashes. Defined cheekbones accentuate her face. Full lips almost always pouting are made more prominent by the way she has her lips pursed. A long slender neck placed on small shoulders, and looking at her petite although attractive figure, makes him realize how small she seems to him.

The thought brings a small smile to his face.

She frowns slightly. "What?"

"Nothing."

She turns her gaze back to the opera, but her heart's not in it. She's still stewing over his words.

"I hate Palpatine."

"You are not alone in that sentiment."

She eyed him quizzicality. "You hate Palpatine?"

"Does it surprise you?"

She shrugs.

"I despise that bastard. And one day soon, very soon I will kill him."

It might have been a joke, had been smiling. But just like before something told her that he was deathly serious.

It was _disturbing._

The sudden explosion of loud applause causes her to jump, focusing on the many people below. He stands and she looks back at him, curious as to how he will disappear this time. "Come here." It isn't a question.

She steps forward warily, trying to figure out what he wants. "Close your eyes."

She raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

"It's a surprise."

"Really?"

"Really."

She decides to humour him, much to his delight. She shivers slightly when she feels the heat of his breathing on her neck. His cool, gloved fingers smooth over her neck, skimming over the soft flesh. "Good girl." He breathes out, his voice a whisper. The anticipation is almost to much as she feels more than hears him move away from her.

Silence so strong she can hear every breath she takes. Finally she opens her eyes.

And he's gone.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a few planets over in Dantooine airspace...

A Jedi Master named Obi-Wan Kenobi makes the the jump to Coruscant.

 **A/N: Okay, so I absolutely hate this chapter and love Liza Koshy. Whatever, it's something. The next will be worth your while, I swear. I am just so worried about the thought that my chapters will just get worse and worse. But I'll update again soon so try to love me. In the meantime I think I'll mention all those who may or may not be somewhat committed to listening to the rest of this trash. Sorry I'm stressed but hey, I managed to get Obi-wan in there, yah? Don't give up on me yet. Also, I want your input. Do you think this story should be like, swear free? Or should I just add the cleaner version to my profile? This story will get a bit steamy at times, but no real sexual intercourse will be happening, but still I can also post an more innocent version if you want. Just let me know. I appreciate all feedback love you guys so much. Mwah.**

 **xx,**

 **Christina.**

 **Fun Fact: My dad is six feet tall.**

 **Word Count: 5167**

 **Ps: Oh, I added chapter names, just so you know where you are. I hope you like them.**


	10. VII: Bloody Knives, Babies And Jedi

**A/N: Hope you enjoy.**

A lone figure covered in robes made its way down the darkened street. The faint club music played distantly, the only sound in the quiet streets. A few homeless figures lay coughing against buildings. Street gangs in alleyways watched, looking for their next victim.

A young man, maybe in his early twenties raced past, breaking the stillness of the night a moment, before his footsteps faded into nothing.

In Coruscant, there was a well known rule of the night. Ignore. Don't mess with anybody, and nobody will mess with you. Don't look at anybody, and don't talk to anybody. Because of possibility of danger, keep calm and carry blasters, machine rotating army blasters, detonators, pepper spray, knives, a lightsaber, a shoto, or any other weapon, and know hand-to-hand combat. Preferably all.

Being alone in the underbelly of Coruscant was dangerous. Most of the time, one could make it through without a scratch. But one must be prepared. Never go into an closed off ally, especially if you are female. Never journey down a long alley alone without protection. Especially if you are female. It is easy to get trapped in one-way alleys, and you may not be able to escape evil, lustful men unless you are an exceptional runner.

One must be cautious. It was life and death for most.

Two fully loaded blasters in the boots, two more at the waist, an knife along with throwing knives that served as her jewelry. A few detonators in a pouch around her neck were just for extreme situations. Bandages and sanitizers for first aid were situated in another pouch on her waist. Pepper spray would be any man's new perfume if they dared touch her. A black formfitting jumpsuit with a light blaster-proof plates inside was her dress. Her face was covered in robes, as well as the rest of her outfit.

Head down, blaster ready, Padmé Amidala was prepared should trouble dare come near her. Keeping her eyes down, she turned down a long alley, but kept her ears open. Slowing a bit, her eyes downcast, she heard the tiniest scruff on the pavement behind her. Quickening her gait she turned sharply into the side doorway of the building, leaning her back flat against it, out of sight.

The footsteps continued, approaching her and her hands shot out grabbing the cloaked figure, drawing him into the doorway a well. Throwing her arms around his neck, she hugged him fiercely. Silent tears streamed down her face as she buried her face in his neck, inhaling the familiar scent. "I've missed you."

The fierceness of the gesture no doubt surprised him, although he hugged her back, his arms wrapping arms around her waist, his hands rubbing reassuringly on her back.

She pulled away from him suddenly, small frown on her face. "How are you here? Is there something wrong? Are you okay? Were you seen? Do you need me to come with you? Does it have to do with the alliance?"

He chuckled, placing a finger over her lips to shush her, then kissed her forehead. "I'm fine. I know I shouldn't have come, but I had to give you this."

He press a small flat object in her palm. She held it up, trying to see what it was, squinting at it. "A data chip."

He rested his hands on her shoulders. "It's important. Keep it safe. It will tell you what you everything need to know."

She tucked it away securely before looking back at him. "You will be leaving then." The disappointment and sadness was evident in her voice. She rarely saw him, and he was already leaving.

He sighed. "I must. The Empire is making it's move as we speak. I have to be there."

She nodded. "I understand." She moved forward, hugging him again for maybe the last time. The Jedi, her Jedi held her tightly. "I wish you didn't have to go."

He laughed softly, not releasing. "You make it sound like we are never going to see each other again."

She flinched again at his words. "We may not."

"I'll always be here, no matter what."

She pulled away from him, the hollow ache in her stomach returning. "I love you."

He kisses her forehead again, his beard tickling her skin. "I love you too. Promise me you'll be careful?"

"Promise, but you have to too."

"I promise."

He steps away from her, and in the the light of the moon, she gets a glimpse of his him, the brown and tan robes, the lighsaber, the turquoise eyes and neat beard.

"Obi-wan." She calls him, and he looks back at her. "Be careful please. You're one of the only one I have left, you know."

He smiles at her, his eyes filled with brotherly affection, his voice layered with an heavy Stewjon accent. "I promise."

When he leaves this time, she doesn't stop him.

When she first joined to the Alliance, she had met several Jedi, but Obi-wan had been the most welcoming of them. They had both been young at the time, and Obi-wan was only an knight. They had quickly bonded quickly, becoming the best of friends. His calm certainty had reassured her when she thought that all had been lost. It was rare that she had ever seen him, the only time when he had transfer information to her. Most only lasted two minutes before her best friend was gone, perhaps not to return.

She waited a good five minutes before she moved, beginning her walk back. She didn't look up as she passed group of of men who eyed her with interest, cat calling and throwing lewd comments. She kept walking, intent on not causing a scene. Since she was facing the light, they must have seen that she was female because they started to follow her.

"Hey, wait up sugar, what's the hurry?"

She kept walking, pulling her robe tighter around her body, hoping they would just leave her alone.

Feeling them start to gain on her, she was prepared when she felt a hand on her shoulder, another on her mouth, trying to restrain her. Spinning around, she stabbed him, plunging her knife in his side deep. He let out a strangled yell in pain, falling on the ground in a fetus position. Before the others could react she had the two blasters in her hands, shooting one in the leg and the other in the shoulder. They both fell clutching their injured areas.

She hit both them with the back of her blaster, knocking them unconscious, before she dragged them to wall, leaning them against it. Walking over to the leader she pulled the knife out, causing him to cry out in pain, for which she felt no pity. They would have done worse to her, she was sure. Whacking him upside the head with her blaster, knocking him unconscious as well before dragging him to his friends. Once they were situated, she called medical help along with the local force, telling them to come immediately. She quickly cleaned their wounds, and bandaged them, making sure they were cared for, like she had learned during her queenly training.

Just as she finished the last one, help arrived, puzzled why the assaulted woman had taken the time to carefully treat them, her surviving without a scratch. She explained what happened to the police, but denied them her identity. They looked at the subjects and smartly decided not to ask questions. Just as she was about to leave she looked back at the scruffy bodies being hefted into the speeder. Turning back she went to the healer, she gave him a hefty check. "Make sure they get proper care and a fair sentence. This will cover all the medical expenses, food, and whatever else they need. Any extra will go to the hospital."

They thanked her, surprised at her kindness to the men who would have without regret raped her and left her carcass to rot. She knew it, but she would still make sure they were taken care of. Jail was a very sad place to spend your life, so if they wanted a burger while in the hospital before going there, she wanted them to have it. She was just like that.

Perhaps her kindness might positively influence their lives.

Turning on her heel, she left, heading back home. She way almost there when saw it.

Vader's home.

Shaped like an pyramid, it was black, with red glowing lights on it for trimming. It had several layers, and several times Padme had wondered if one could stand on the bottom floor and look all the way to the top. Obi-wan had once remarked that it reminded him of a Sith holocron. It was an monstrous building, one that she thought rather suited it's owner. No one ever dared to enter or even go near the place. Padmé had never been this close to it, and the prickling feeling on the back of her neck warned her against it. She wondered what it was like inside. Was it a giant torture chamber full of all sorts horrifying artifacts? Was it surprisingly homey and welcoming?

A sudden wave of curiosity overcame her. Was his house open to the public but no one ever dared to venture in? Could she just walk in? Is she could, could she just set a detonator and blow it up? What was it like? And just like that, she knew she must find out. It would bother her endlessly until she found out and she might as well find out while she was wearing full armor.

She was just about to act on it when she remembered the data chip. If she was caught or searched she would be done for. Sighing, she continued on, but after a moment couldn't help but walk on the other side of the road. She didn't feel right being that close to the Sith's residence. It felt odd to call it a home. When Vader had come, he had built his house as he saw fit, and it was said that he dictated every detail himself. Everyone knew that that was his 'house', but Vader was so...Vader that he didn't seem capable of a home.

Lair would be a better word.

As she walked, she passed by an homeless woman lying stretched out on the street, a crying baby in her arms. She felt a wave of pity and compassion come over her, and she went to the woman, touching her softy to wake her up. Lying on her side with her eyes closed, the woman was incredibly thin, like she had been starving for while. After shaking her didn't work Padmé began to feel concerned. Placing her bare hand on the woman's forehead, she gathered she didn't have a fever, instead her skin was slightly warm, but not as warm as a normal person.

Then suddenly she noticed something.

The woman wasn't breathing.

She'd just died.

Padmé stared at the corpse a moment, the pretty face still and calm. Looking at the incredibly thin body, and the ragged clothes, she realized how privileged she was in this harsh galaxy. It was a cruel world for unfortunate souls such as these.

A weak cry turned her attention to the baby. Looking at it, she immediately guessed it was only three or four months old. She glanced back at the body before carefully removing the baby, cradling it in her arms. Standing she look back and forth down the road. She walked until she came to an butcher's shop, just closing. Stepping inside the light green twi'lek cleaning the counter paused and looked at her. "I'm sorry, but we're closed. You can come back tomorrow an-"

Padmé cut her off. "I didn't come for meat."

She stared at Padmé a long time. "This is a meat shop."

Padmé ignored her statement. "There's a dead woman down the street."

The twi'lek stared at her, a deadpan expression on her face. "That's sad."

"Listen okay? This woman just died and...this is her baby. I'll take care of the baby until I can find what to do, okay?"

"And you felt the need to tell me this, because? You obviously want me to do something with the mother right? What do you want me to do, take her home with me?"

Padmé pursed her lips, thinking. "Do you have a large unoccupied freezing tub?"

"Ughh..." Padmé just learned something new. Even with someone else's help, carrying a dead person was hard. "Hrrhg..." her friend grunted as well, heaving as they placed the body in the freezer.

"Whew." Hopefully that wasn't something she had to do daily. Turning to her companion, she thanked her for allowing her to use the freezer. Tomorrow morning the authorities would come and make sure the woman was transferred to a more suitable place. The same for the baby, but until then, it remained in Padmé's care.

She hailed a speeder which took her to an local store where she bought all necessities: clothes, diapers, bottles, wipes, milk, pacifiers, baby powder, baby oil, bibs, gummies (for herself), a speeder seat, gentle body wash for sensitive skin, blankets, a crib, a baby bag, a baby hover seat (stroller), a baby bath, gloves, booties, some more cute clothes, and ect. ect. ect. After stuffing it all in the back of a public transport speeder she took it home.

Opening the door with her hands full in a way that would make any multitasking mother proud, she was happy to be home. What an afternoon. Seeing Obi-wan, being attacked by some men in a dark alley, almost going into Vader's house, finding a dead woman, putting the body in a freezer, going baby shopping, and bringing home a baby. What next?

Setting the baby on the carpet, she set down her bags, and began stripping out of her amor. She thew it into her mess closet, not before removing the data chip. Walking in her underwear to the living room, she was shocked to see Rush Clovis sitting there.

She could only imagine what she looked like. Naked, save her underwear, bags in one arm, and a sleeping baby in the other.

He just sat there one her couch, gaping while she she did similar to him.

The hell was Rush karking Clovis in her apartment!?

"Ahem. Senator Clovis how nice of you to drop by...I apologize about my state of undress but my clothes were spoiled and I removed them as soon as I returned. If you'll please excuse me, I was quite unaware of your visit, I will just go find some er...proper clothes." She flew into her room, locking the door.

If he could just walk in her apartment then she needed better security.

She set the baby on the bed, making sure to keep him away from the edge. Storing the chip away, she immediately searched until she found a long evening gown to wear, pulling a robe over it. Changing from the braid her hair was in, she, in a matter of seconds, had it in a comfortable yet elegant bun.

Picking up the baby that had been mysteriously silent since she picked him up, just watching her do her thing. Staring down at the amazingly cute baby laying propped up on his stomach. Big, inquisitive silver eyes and soft although dirty brown hair, along with a tiny button nose, he was the easily the cutest baby she'd ever seen. She immediately felt the instinctual maternal affection seize her for the little tiny thing.

He whimpered.

Ah. He's probably hungry, she thought, and gently picked him up off the bed, letting him lean on her shoulder. Walking out of her room, she was surprised to see Clovis sitting where she had left him. She had almost completely forgotten his presence. "Senator Clovis, what brings you to visit me?" She began pleasantly, rummaging through the bags until she found the one with the blanket in it. Laying it out on the floor, she placed the baby on it.

I should really name him.

Picking him back up, she studied his face.

What does he look like? Maybe an Athrhen? Mico?

"Senator Amidala, I must apologize for my intrusion, if I had know-"

"What do you think would be a good name for him?"

"Oh..umm...well-"

She snapped her fingers. "I've got it!"

"You-you do?"

"Mmhm." She she kissed the baby's cheeks, nuzzling it affectionately. "Katus. He will be called Katus. At least for today. Katus Amidala."

"An excellent choice, but uh...I was unaware that you have a child."

She set him back down. "I don't." Turning back to the bags she searched for the milk. "I found this child on the street. His mother just died."

"Oh. So you plan to adopt him then."

"Oh no. Tomorrow I'll be going to see about what should be done for him." Pouring the milk into a bottle she set it to heat a little.

"I see."

Taking the milk out of the microwave, she walked over and sat down next to the baby, scooping him up in her arms and began to feed him. He eagerly began sucking on it. Looking up at Clovis, she had sudden inspiration. "Senator Clovis, would you be so kind to help me? In one of the bags, there's a baby crib. If you could assemble it, that would just be great."

"Of course!" He jumped out of his seat and began searching.

"No, no..the other one. That one. No...heh, the other." She tried to direct him, pointing over the content Katus. "There. That one."

Looking over at her, he held up a large box, a sheepish look on his handsome face. "This one?"

"Yes, that one." She tried to contain her smile and failed spectacularly. He was endearingly clumsy.

"Right."

"There's some knives in the kitchen, if you need them."

"Right." He turned sharply and disappeared into the kitchen. She turned her attention back to Katus, speaking to him softly. "You like that huh? It's good right? Oh, you poor baby."

"I've got it!" Rush marched back into the main living area, knife in hand, and proceeded to open the box. Looking over his shoulder, he addressed her directly. "I must seem very rude, just barging in as I did, but...I was lonely, and I thought I that I should come visit you...and, well, since you weren't home, I thought I would just wait until you got back...very presumptuous, I realize now, of me to let myself in. I hope that-"

He stopped when he saw her raised hand. "It's fine. But for next time warn me first."

"Of course." He pulled the box open. Picking out the instructions, he gave then to her so she could red then out to her while he assembled the item.

"No, no, that's not right. You put that on next. No, on the other thing. Just - here." She set Katus on the floor and helped him assemble it, as he was terribly confused. The worked in companionable silence, although, in the end, she did most of the work, while he unpacked the bags. However Padmé did notice that he got flustered whenever she tried to help him. She deduced that he must be shy and found it rather cute. Katus merely laughed every time Rush messed up.

After she had arranged all the baby's furniture in her bedroom, and placed all of his toiletries in the bathroom and put his milk in the cooling unit, she gave him a much needed bath, lathered him in baby oil, powdered his diaper, and dressed him for bed, all the while listening to Rush's happy chatter about his mother.

"You would love her, I'm sure."

Padmé merely smiled, laying Katus in his bed. Kissing him softly on his head full of soft brown hair, she walked out into the living room, letting Rush follow her. He didn't know but she had met his mother, a snobbish, high and mighty woman, who held her sons in greater esteem then they perhaps deserved, boasting particularly on Rush, as her dear, intelligent, brilliant and gorgeous son. Far before she met him of course.

And she had not liked Padmé. At all.

"I noticed how well you do with children, is it uh, hereditary?"

Padmé laughed, reaching inside her messy closet and pulling out her jumpsuit. "Absolutely not. I had no clue how to deal with children at all. But then, when Sola, my sister, had Ryoo I learned as I often had to babysit. When Pooja was born, I was better prepared." She sat on one of the couches, and gestured for him to do the same. "When I have my own, I hope I will have enough experience to deal with them."

She stopped suddenly, looking up at him. "I have been a terrible host. Please forgive my rudeness. Can I offer you anything, something to drink? Would you like me to order some food?"

He, paused, like he was thinking. "Do you have wine?"

Padmé immediately retrieved some from the kitchen, pouring it into two tall wine glasses, offering one to Rush and setting her own down as she did a routine check on all the items in her jumpsuit. "Do you have any siblings, Senator Clovis?"

He nodded, setting down his already drained glass. "Yes, two brothers, one older and one younger, and three sisters."

She pulled her knife out to clean it, as it was still dripping with red life giving fluid. She grimaced, although she had done what was necessary, she still thought it wasn't exactly what she wanted to see everyday.

A choking noise caused her to look at her companion. "Blood.."

"Oh, yes. While I was out is was attacked by some men and forced to go hand to hand. Don't worry, though. I made sure they were properly looked after." She continued to pull out everything else, blasters, knives, throwing knives, detonators, spray, and bandages, setting them on the table. She began preparing them for the next journey, sharpening the knives, reloading the guns, checking the detonators to make sure that everything was in place.

"That's uhm, that's a lot of weapons." Rush still seemed a bit on edge at their sudden appearance.

She nodded while sighing. "You'd be surprised how many people would love to see me dead. For a young woman walking around at night with no one with her, she must be prepared. With even the Empire is excited about getting rid of me, so I must be prepared for potential battle. When I was training as a Queen, I learned a lot of hand to hand combat and other forms of fighting. I hope it doesn't bother you."

"Not at all." He replied shakily. "But it's late." He stood up suddenly. "And I should go."

Padmé stood as well, walking him to the door. "Goodnight, Senator Clovis."

He kissed her hand softly.

"Goodnight, Senator Amidala."

* * *

 _(Flashback)_

 _She looked two hired men that had assisted her and carrying her thing up._

 _"You can leave them right there, thank you."_

 _They nodded and left. She had made sure that that they were not to ask questions about why she was bringing furniture and goodies in the Opera House. After they were gone, she looked down the halls were they disappeared, before checking the other way. She wanted to be sure no one saw her enter or pay any attention to the semi-secret room. She walked in, looking around the darkened room, but as she didn't see any anybody in there, she left. Feeling slightly disappointed that her enigmatic friend for before wasn't there as he said he would be, she began pulling in all of the stuff she bought to enjoy the night. Two large, comfy chairs that she placed parallel to the viewing window. She knew that since he hadn't had any furniture, perhaps he liked it bare and she was disrupting his peace, but if he wanted her out, then he would have to remove her._

 _She returned with her hands full, bringing in her snacks, careful to make sure no one saw her enter or exit. Hitting the door pad with her elbow to close it, she set them down next to the chairs._

 _Padmé quickly removing her heels and pantyhose, relieved to get it off. It's itchiness had been tormenting her since she left her apartment. She paused a moment, scratching her leg to find relief. After getting comfortable in one of the chairs, and adjusting the other so she was happily cocooned between them, she snatched up her sherpa, and began eating her gummies the way she liked to best. Heads then tails._

 _Amazingly comfortable, she was completely unaware that she was being watched._

 _After a moment, she started talking to her gummies. She had learned that the delicious little treats were far from judgmental. "He lied. That information retaining bastard lied. He said he'd be here. Or maybe I was making him up after all. What do you think ? Hmm?" She addressed the little gummy who was about to meet his doom. "And to think I spent extra money to buy him a chair just in case."_

 _"Mmm." She turned back to watch the Opera, when she felt the bag leave her fingertips._

 _His disdainful voice shook her out of the stupor she had been in at just seeing him. "So, you have a thing for naming those disgusting little pieces of goop or what?"_

 _She stared at those brilliant, hypnotizing blue eyes, the toasted golden hair, and tantalizing ripe lips, breathing in his powerful aura. Then she comprehended what he was saying and glared at him in offense. "Those are good, thank you." She tried to get them back but he held it out her reach, still reading the label on back._

 _"The contents don't agree."_

 _"You give me my gummies. How did you even get in anyway?"_

 _He picked one out, sniffing it. "I have ways."_

 _Padmé sighed, giving up finally. "Never mind, I have more." She dug in the bag and her hand reemerged with with some cheesy substance._

 _He ate the little gummy whole, a doubtful look on his face, which morphed into bemusement and slight distaste. He sighed before grabbing a handful of them, swallowing them all in one bite._

 _Padmé smirked victoriously. "You like them?"_

 _"Not at all."_

 _"But-" Didn't he just consume however many of them?_

 _"I'm hungry and these don't taste that bad, but why did you spend money on this?"_

 _Padmé narrowed her eyes at him. She was sick of him belittling her favorite treats. "Since when were you my stingy husband?"_

 _He picked a few out of the bottom. "Being stingy has nothing to do with common sense."_

 _"Here." She dropped a cheese puff in his hand. "Eat that."_

 _He immediately put it in his mouth and froze. "The kriff is this?"_

 _"Cheese puffs."_

 _He raised an blond eyebrow at her, not completely hiding his bemusement at the taste of goodie. "I must question your food tastes."_

 _"If you don't like it, why are you eating it?"_

 _"I don't complain."_

 _"Just question my snacks." Her tone was sarcastic._

 _"Yes."_

 _The she stared at him, before she pulled her legs back on her own chair, pushing the other away, giving up her comfy cocoon. "Sit."_

 _He sat._

 _She stretched her legs out on his lap, pulling the blanket over her toes. "Who are you?"_

 _He stared down at her feet that she had set on his lap almost offendedly. Why, she had no idea, she had given up her cocoon for him, so he needed to recompense her. "You still persist in knowing."_

 _She gave him an impertinent look. "You know who I am, and what I do, so why shouldn't I know about you? How would I ask you, if you are real, how was your week? I have no idea what you do." It was only after the words left her lips that she saw the truth in them._

 _He leaned back in his seat, his eyes calculating yet guarded. "Then we won't talk about me. Now, anything interesting happening to you?"_

 _"Well, I met Darth Vader if that counts as something 'interesting'?"_

 _He had been mostly focused on the strange little bubbles that they called an performance, but when the words 'Darth Vader' left her lips, he whipped his head around to her so fast she was surprised she couldn't hear his neck crack. "Oh?"_

 _She eyed him, nodding slowly, wondering why he responded that way. "Yes, Vader. Do you know him?"_

 _"Very well." Was all of his answer._

 _Her curiosity peaked. Her only thoughts were how. "Really?"_

 _"Hmm."_

 _"How did you meet?"_

 _"Purely on accident."_

 _Padmé groaned, turning away from him, highly dissatisfied. "You're not going to tell me how, are you?"_

 _He merely smiles._

 _She huffed._

 _"Tell me about him. What...what was he like?" He effectively switched the conversation._

 _"Oh. Well." She exhaled, her eyebrows raised. "Well. He was so...tall, for one. And dark, and overwhelming. And just so intimidating. Almost like you." His expression didn't change. "I didn't even want to think about what he could have done to me if Palpatine had found some loophole to trap me in my words and make me seem...find a reason to kill me. And his face."_

 _"What about it?"_

 _She stared at him incredulously. He said he knew Vader, and he'd never noticed Vader's face? Or lack of face. All you could see were those lips. Which were actually really nice. "He doesn't have one. His face is just a black abyss-like and...I mean all you can see is his mouth. It's just...it seems...But he was oddly civil."_

 _He raised an eyebrow, a small smile creeping up his face. "Did you think he was some sort of animal?"_

 _"I don't know. I certainly didn't expect him to behave like an...gentleman of sorts. I've seen the destruction he has been capable of. I've worked with restoration movements to clean up his messes. I've seen the mutilated corpses and the crying women and children. The man is the cause of actions that not the strongest storms, or the greatest machinery can accomplish. So forgive me for feeling that civil conversation is not possible with him."_

 _He folded his hands together, and contemplated his words carefully. "Vader is an ice cold, calculating and heartless murderer, but is not as he is originally perceived. I would not go so far as to say there is anything good in him, but I do know that looks can be...deceptive. What they see is what they think, and they are oblivious to several things about him. For instance, just because he is what he is doesn't mean he can't carry on a formal conversation." He sounded odd, almost like how one with a low opinion of themselves would talk about themselves._

 _"When I addressed him he didn't at all even try to deny that he has murdered people out of rage saying, 'I am what I am therefore I do what I do.' And when I asked if he has any morals at all he just said he had no time for them." The nerve._

 _"Maybe he was right."_

 _"How well do you know him? It seems that you almost agree with him."_

 _He leaned forward, staring straight into her eyes. "I know Vader better than I know myself."_

 _She felt herself go wary. "And you approve of his principles then?"_

 _"Of course."_

 _She tried to tell if he's joking. He couldn't really believe that, could he? "How can you? Can't you see what's wrong with the system? With the war, and bloodshed and everything else going on?"_

 _He gave her an calculating look. "The war will end when the opposition sees the truth." His voice is even, certain._

 _She sputtered, not believing that he can possibly believe that. "See the truth? What truth? That Palpatine's tyranny over then is the right thing? That Vader is actually the good guy? That the galaxy should be under the control of that power hungry lunatic? Because if that's what you mean, then I might as well fight alongside them."_

 _"You believe that the rebels are right then?"_

 _"How could I not? Think about it. Don't you see anything wrong with what's going on out there? Palpatine promised peace and democracy. Then he creates an Empire? How can you not see all the corruption, the lies? Do you approve of the Emperor's behavior?" She knew that was a risky statement, but by secluding the rebels as one group an putting herself as one who almost thinks she should be part of it, she clears herself of being in it._

 _He let a low laugh. "I will not deny that the leadership is corrupt, but I think you don't realize how the Empire is better for the galaxy."_

 _She snorts, tossing her head to the side, not believing what she was hearing. "How can you believe that? An Empire is good for no galaxy, believe me. A constitutional republic is what this galaxy needs."_

 _He stares at her, his eyes looking for something. "You truly believe that? You see where that lead us. To an Empire, the finest thing the ever happened to this galaxy. For once, there is peace and equality. The same rules for all. And one the rebels are done, all of this needless bloodshed will be over."_

 _"Palpatine has been using Vader to frighten people into silence, killing anyone in opposition to him. He doesn't want to help the people. All he wants is power and I'll be dammed if I just sit and watch. If people could lean to set aside their selfish desires, they could change the way things are. There would be no Empire, and we could find what Palpatine has destroyed. We could a work to a brighter future. It could change everything. Don't you see?"_

 _Vader sat back in his chair, crossing his fingers. But perhaps..."Ah." He snapped his fingers, his eyes sharp and she saw that beautiful dripping golden color entering his irises. "You're an political idealist aren't you?"_

 _"Well,-"_

 _He let out a short laugh, that sounded almost like he had found what was wrong with her. "That's the problem right there. Idealism is a nice fairytale, but we are faced with a much more complicated situation than that. You see, I'm a realist, with no time for a world of make believe. Look around you Amidala. We are surrounded with corrupted, selfish beings. They will not change. Even if there were an constitutional republic, it would never work. We are surrounded by self-centeredness, evil, greed, lust, and all other abominable and foolish act of behavior. These beloved citizens that you believe want freedom, look at them. They had choices. They chose the Empire. There is no help for them. Such a system will collapse as it always does, and someone powerful enough to fight off those too stubborn and drunk on their crimes will take over and establish order. He will take the power out of their greedy hands, and will force the truth on them."_

 _He breathed deeply, calming himself, his eyes closing, and when they opened they were as clear as the sky again. "People who are doing wrong will rarely fix it themselves unless someone makes them, Amidala. As far as idealism goes, it would be a nice fantasy. Unfortunately, we live in a real world. That could never happen, not for galaxy, not ever. Human beings are faulty, defective, and are quick to forget who they are. I'm not trying to be a pessimist, but not everyone is as pure hearted as you. This is the only way, the only it will be so help me if I have to run it myself."_

 _Padmé didn't respond, drinking in his words. Despite how wrong it seems, she knew that despite that she can never stop in what she knows to be right, a part of her knows he's right as well. And it chills her to the bone._

 _Beauty._

 _She suddenly looks up at him, her dark eyes boring into his. He stares back at her taking with equal intensity. Hair meant for running your fingers through it, long enough to just brush the back of his collar, was pushed back almost like he had run his fingers through it before. Smooth tanned skin disappearing into the blackness his shirt, making her wonder if all of his skin was the same bronzed shade, and made her curious to find out. Sharp blue eyes, able to change to golden at any second, lined with long, lashes that most women would have to use lots of cosmetics to attain. Defined cheekbones accentuate his face. Soft, kissable lips to make her almost melt. His tall, muscular frame covered with robes, but she could see enough to tell that everything underneath that is black as well, but it only adds to his mysterious character._

 _A small smile tugs on his lips._

 _She frowned slightly. "What?"_

 _"Nothing."_

 _She turns her gaze back to the opera, but her heart's not in it. She's still stewing over his words._

 _She decides to settle with one phrase. "I hate Palpatine."_

 _"You are not alone in that sentiment."_

 _She turned to him quizzicality. "You hate Palpatine?"_

 _"Does it surprise you?"_

 _She shrugged. At least they agreed that far._

 _"I despise that bastard. And one day soon, very soon I will kill him."_

 _It might have been a joke, had been smiling. But just like before something told her that he was deathly serious._

 _It was disturbing._

 _The fact that he said that he, himself would kill Palpatine, was foreboding. Even more so that she didn't doubt it._

 _The sudden explosion of loud applause caused her to jump, looking down on the many people below. He stood and she looks back at him, curious as to how he will disappear this time. He couldn't really while she watching._

 _"Come here." His voice was authoritative._

 _She stepped forward warily, trying to figure out what he wants._

 _"Close your eyes."_

 _She raised an eyebrow, highly suspicious of his questionable motives. "Why?"_

 _"It's a surprise."_

 _"Really?"_

 _"Really."_

 _She decided to humour him. She felt a shiver run down her spine when she feels the heat of his breath on her neck. His cool, gloved fingers smooth over her neck, skimming over the soft flesh, eliciting heat to course though her body. Good girl." He breathed out, his voice a seductive whisper, and feel that darkness surrounding him. The anticipation is almost to much as she feels more than hears him move away from her._

 _Silence so strong she can hear every breath she takes. Finally she opens her eyes._

 _And he's gone._

 _(End of Flashback)_

 **A/N: I don't really need to put an author's note because when I update I'm updating so many chapters at once, so I can just do my author's note then. I promised to update in lumps. Anyway I feel more optimistic about this chapter but the next will be awesome, trust me. New Vader and Padmé action in five minutes!**

 **xx,**

 **Christina.**

 **Fun Fact: I edited this feverishly while heading to the library.**

 **Word Count: 6614**

 **What!**

 **Thank, you, thank you very much.**

 **Ps. I honestly feel like I cheated out of putting the amazing scene I had in mind for the next chapter where I wanted it instead of here, and for this chapter just redid half of last chapter in Padmé's POV.**

 **PPs. I just realized that my long author's not just carried over again. Lol.**


	11. VIII: Handmaidens, Foster Care And Tortu

**A/N: I'm baaaack. Miss me? Picture of Katus above. I always wanted Padmé to temporarily adopt a child, I thought I'd just add him in. Or should it be temporary? You tell me. Enjoy!**

"You're too cute for your own good, you know that?" Padmé mentally reprimanded herself. Although an insanely lovable, she could not allow herself to grow too attached. He was leaving in the afternoon, for goodness sakes. She was only a babysitter till then. Of course, she would be happy to keep him as long as necessary until they were able to find his records or create them if necessary. But at this time, with the war going on, it was nearly impossible to think of keeping him, so until his home was decided, she would not allow herself to fully accept him as her own.

It was selfish of her, she knew, not to fully open her heart to him, but she didn't want to get so attached to the little bundle of joy that she dragged him into danger.

On the flip side, she was being unselfish for his wellbeing. Should anything ever happen to her, it would affect him too, for better or worst.

She didn't want to take that chance.

He gurgled happily while lying on his back, drawing her eyes back to his happy silver eyes. Padmé felt a strong surge of affection, of love seize her. Oh who was she kidding? She loved this kid, so much, and it would hurt when she had to let him go. In a few hours, in fact.

She sighed, albeit sadly, scooping him up in her arms. Kissing his cheek softly she murmured in his ear. "I miss you already sweetie."

A soft beeping alerted her that someone was at the door. Picking up Katus quickly and placing him in his bed, she walked over to her computer, pulling out the data chip. Going to her mini shredder, she fed the data chip into it, taking the shavings and dropping them in the trash while Katus watched curiously. She walked to the door, not before snatching her blaster, holding it behind her back. She opened the door, her hand up and blaster ready to shoot strait at the person's head.

Her handmaidens, who had been laughing and talking stopped abruptly, staring at the gun, and the blue droid with them whistled. "Uh...hi?"

Padmé dropped her arm, quickly ushering them in without a word. Once they were all inside she shut the door and locked it, leaning against it. A sudden squeal burst forth out of her, and she hugged them all tightly. Except Artoo, who she greeted by rubbing his dome. "You're back! I missed you all so much!"

They hugged her back hesitantly.

"What?"

Sabé spoke first, nodding at the blaster Padmé had forgotten was in her hand. "So that's how you greet people now huh? With a gun at their head?"

Padmé set the blaster down, an apologetic smile on her face. "I am so sorry. I met with Obi-wan yesterday so I've been a bit on edge. Also, when I came home there was an guy in my house and-" She didn't get a chance to finish before she was cut off.

"You saw Obi-wan?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Is it about the rebellion?"

"Is he still hot?"

"Is he hotter than before?"

"How did a guy get in here?"

"Was he hot?"

"Did you do the dirty?"

"Where you doing the dirty before we came?"

"Is he still here?"

"Did he leave you alone?"

"Was he unfaithful?"

"Are you pregnant?"

"Is it a boy or girl?"

"Does your family know?"

"Why are we just hearing about this?"

"Whoooooooooooo!" The last was Artoo's comment.

Padmé blinked, trying to process all the questions coming in at once. "Come again?"

A quiet whimper drifted from the bedroom.

Katus.

Sabé, Dormé, Rabé, Yané's heads whipped around to her bedroom in an instant. Padmé quickly moved to stand between them and the door. "Listen, before you go in, I have to tell you somethi-"

Her handmaidens ran her over, breaking into her bedroom. After recovering herself, she followed to find all her handmaidens gushing over him. "He's so cuuuuuutttte! He got his eyes from his daddy I'm guessing?" Sabé said, fascinated by the little miracle in her arms.

Padmé gestured for them to sit down on her king sized bed. "Sit down and I'll explain everything."

They all sat, eagerly drinking in her story. Dormé was first to speak when she finished. "So are you going to adopt him then?"

"Of course not. I mean, he's welcome to stay, I really like the idea of him being here, but I'd be potentially placing him in danger if I kept him, no matter how much I want to. I'm taking him to the child adoption agency tomorrow to see what do with him, and until then, he'll stay here with us."

"Aw, come on Padmé. You couldn't really let this sweetheart go, could you?"

Padmé smiled sadly. "If we were not in the circumstances we are I would have adopted him in a heartbeat."

They all stared down at Katus, feeling dismal at the thought of the adorable baby that had suddenly come into their lives leaving them in a few hours.

Rabé spoke. "That sucks."

Katus whined.

Padmé snapped out of her thoughts suddenly, realizing that he was hungry. "I'll be right back, I gotta get his milk." She left, feeling bummed out. The thought of having a child always appealed to her, but she didn't know if she would live to see the day she would. Or a husband for that matter. She was already twenty-four, and by the way things were looking, she'd be eighty-six by the time she found 'the one' and then no one would want to marry her.

Walking back in the bedroom, she shook off her depressing thoughts. "So," she said trying to brighten the saddened atmosphere. "How was your trip?"

The past week she had sent her handmaidens to Naboo for vacation. It was risky for her because the lack of protection, but she couldn't possibly leave the senate at this time, when the Empire would jump on any the lack of resistance. Her time would come soon. Instead, she was content to listen to them regale her with their adventures.

"It wasn't as fun without you though." Sabé ended sadly.

"Yea." The rest of the handmaidens said in synch.

They sat in silence, until Sabé spoke again, a mischievous look on her face. "So, did you by any chance get laid while we were gone?"

Padmé huffed. "Sabé you know very well that I don't have time for such things."

Sabé groaned, flopping back on the bed. "And to think, the only reason we left was because we though you might do it. I've have to give Yané fifty credits now!"

A woman of few words, Yané smiled victoriously.

Padmé scowled down at Sabé. "I don't think I approve of you betting on my 'amourous activities'."

Sabé glowered back. "Now I don't either because you don't have any."

Padmé was about to retort with a smart response before her eyes saw the clock. "Kriff!"

Her handmaidens all sat up. "What?"

"I have to go. Katus' meeting is in thirty minutes. You girls baby proof this place just in case, okay?" Padmé began scrambling to get ready.

After long deliberation she settled on casual yet classy, since she wanted to appear with the times but not like a young adolescent and not an over strict woman. She quickly snagged one of her favorite Nubian two pieces, the shirt a pale pick halter top that exposed some of her back and shoulders, allowing her to look youthful without teenager-ish, the pants loose and black, the colors contrasting nicely. Sabé immediately began tackling her hair, while Yané removed the red nail polish with a nude pink to match her shirt.

She honestly didn't think that it mattered, but Yané, an perfectionist for subtle details, was persistent that red was to flashy for this event, and matching nail polish and clothes made her look well put together. Also, red apparently seemed too 'I'm an clubbing mom who just got back from doing the walk of shame' look, while nude pink seemed very subtle and kid-friendly. Sabé put some hairspray to make her hair shine, pulling it back in a tight high ponytail, her glossy curls seeming almost like an hairpiece compared to the sleekness inside her ponytail. She quickly gathered up Katus and his baby bag, wondering why it seemed like she was preparing to adopt Katus instead of find better parents for him. She finally decided that it was because if he needed a place to stay in the meantime of finding him a home she wanted them to consider her.

 _Sure_.

Padmé glanced at the her chrono. Ten minutes left. Kriff.

* * *

Helhara No'um stared down at the woman through the holocameras. The young lady sat there, holing the baby kissing his cheeks and showering him with affection. She had been pleased when they arrived just punctual, but instead of going to meet them, she sent them to her office, and watched from the security cameras. She had often found that it was the best way to determine what kind of person was in possession of the child. In this case, a child being born on the street, with no medical records, no name and no known life date, they would simply have to create one.

That might take a long matter of weeks, but in the meantime, by the looks of this smitten woman, she might volunteer to care for the baby during that time. Turning sharply with a nod, she went inside. The woman immediately looked up at her, giving the soft 'hi' smile before returning her attention to the baby leaning on her shoulder, his fist in his mouth.

The woman was dressed nicely and professionally, a nude pink haltertop with loose black pants, giving her a pretty attractive look without being too immodest. Her hair had been carefully brushed until it shone, but her ponytail was full of luchious curls.

Up close she noticed that her nails were the same color as her shirt. Nice. She obviously put effort in her appearance. If she had showed up with blood red nail polish Helhara might had been worried.

She sat down, her holographic computer immediately came up, surrounding her in forums. "So, Miss..?"

"Amidala. Padmé Amidala."

"Padmé Amidala...you are senator, am I right?"

"You are."

"My name is Helhara No'um, but you can call me Hara. I'll need you undergo a series of yes and no questions concerning the baby, okay?" She glanced up from the hovering screen in front of her.

"Mmhm."

"But um, first can I see the child?" She held her hand out to receive the baby.

"Sure." The senator handed the child over to her. "Aw, he's a cutie." He was, with brown hair, long lashes, silver eyes, a tiny nose.

"Alright let's see what we got here." She began tapping, and after a moment she took a scanner, and flashed it over his face. She turned back to the screens and after a few second the screens turned blank, the words 'no results found' flashing across all the screens. "Hmm. She frowned, clicking a button the tiny scanner, running it over his neck and wrist, while he watched it bemusedly.

The same text reappeared on the screen.

She sighed, handing the baby back to the senator. "Well. That proves, it. No face recognition shows that he hasn't ever had a face scan, at least in a while, and he has no chip." Everyone, as soon as they were released from the healers had several things documented, their mediclorian count, their health status, facial charts and a few other things. They were all implanted and loaded on chips that could be read with a scanner to bring up their basic information. Once scanned the database brought up every detail necessary to that person, and if something was altered it was easy to update.

A law passed by the Empire, it was absolutely necessary to have. It made things easier if someone lost their memory or you found a lost child, or just anyone who refused to give up true identity to the Empire. If there was ever an issue concerning your identity, after a scan, you could bring up somebody life records and information in seconds. However, unlike slave chips, there was no tracking device in it or detonators.

Unfortunately, the majority of children born into poverty had never been to a hospital in their lives, and therefore never had their identity chip implanted, such as this child.

"We'll have to get him checked out a pick a date for his life day, along with his name and from there he'll be tested and chipped, and we can store him into the database."

The woman gently smoothed the baby's hair off his face, getting him comfortable for sleep, quiet a moment before speaking. "How will you determine a name and life day for him?"

Helhara shrugged. "Either the current guardian, which would be you, as you are the one who found him, or he will be assigned one from the books."

"I'm his guardian?"

"Well, you found him. When he will be taken by a foster family later today, he will be under their guardianship. That is unless," she paused looking at Padmé intently. "Unless you would volunteer to play foster mommy have his files state your guardianship, and will take responsibility of having him chipped and healer checked. If so, you would be the one to name him and pick name and life date. After you do that, you'll bring him back here, and we'll give him a temporary certificate, and it might take two or three weeks to get that done. If you do decide to foster him, it would make the entire process easier."

The senator set the now asleep baby in his carrier, turning her full attention to Helhara. "He's welcome to stay with me as long as necessary."

Helhara smiled. She'd knew that it would turn out that way. "Do you have a name in mind?"

She nodded looking down at the sleeping child. "I think Katus is fitting for him."

"Katus. That's a nice name." She began typing up an database file. "Last name?"

"Uhm...I don't know. You can put Amidala for now."

"Okay. Judging by the looks of him, he was born between February and March. You can pick a day between then."

"March 34." She said determinedly.

"Okay." She typed it in. "We'll complete this when he's been tagged. In the meantime we'll work or your guardianship. Yes or no questions. Do you think you will be able to give him all the attention he will need?"

"Yes."

"Is your house child-proof?"

"Yes."

"Will your life as a senator influence your ability to take care of a child?"

"Yes."

"Influence him badly?"

"No."

"Do you think that you have the skills to care for children?"

"Yes."

"What experience do you have?"

"My nieces."

"Do you have backup in case that you are not able to care for Katus?"

"Yes."

"Does your backup have experience with children?"

"Yes."

"Do you think the tension due to different views between you and the Empire will have an effect on Katus?"

She hesitated. "I...no. I won't let it."

"One final question. If Katus should ever grow up and want to find who rescued him and gave him his last name, do you want him to find you?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well then, Ms. Amidala, custody goes to you. Of course that is after I inspect your apartment, but from what I can tell, it's a done deal, but I'll need you to sign here."

She handed the woman a a datapad and a pen, who accepted it, signing it happily. "When will you need to inspect the apartment?"

"Now. You won't have had time to prepare." Helhara winked, standing and picking up her datapad. "Let's go."

* * *

Padmé hesitantly opened the to her apartment to see her request had been followed to the tee. Everything was baby-proofed, despite the fact that Katus couldn't even walk or barely crawl.

The first thing Helhara went to her messy closet, to find it locked. Padmé blinked. That door didn't have a lock. "What's in there?"

"Coats, shoes."

"Hmm."

An explosion of laughter burst through Padmé's bedroom door. Hara raised an eyebrow. "And that?"

Padmé glanced at the chrono. "That was my handmaidens. Probably watching some soap opera at this time."

Helhara blinked. "I see. May I be introduced to them?"

Padmé sighed, mentally crossing her fingers. "Sabé, Yané, Rabé, and Dormé, come here please!"

A collective groan went up from the bedroom. "Can it wait milady? This is the juicy part!" Sabé' whiny voice cut in from the bedroom.

"I'm afraid not."

After a few soft grumbles, the women came annoyedly out of the room. They froze when they saw Katus, befor a collective shriek of happiness went up from them. "KATUS!" Padmé winced as they flew past her, not even noticing Helhara. In a instant they were holding him, kissing him, and cooing over him. Artoo, who had rolled out behind them, warbled happily, an action that seemed to unnerve Helhara, who had not noticed his presence before.

The rest of the inspection went uneventful, and after a few tips and pointers, Helhara had seemed satisfied that the child was in good hands.

* * *

"Yes, Master."

Palpatine walked around his apprentice, watching him critically. "You claim to be loyal to me?"

"Yes, Master."

He gestured to the droid operating the machine, setting the electrifying bars lying across his apprentice's freshly beaten back to go to full force.

The force screamed in agony while Vader grunted deeply in pain. He let it sit awhile, before he stopped it, his apprentice panting.

Strong.

Resilient.

Trained.

Stubborn.

Unbreakable.

So why was he torturing him?

"Even now?"

Lifting his head slowly, not moving from his crouched position, his yellow-red eyes filled with hatred, the dark side brewing in the room. The thin black lines crawled up his tanned body, up his torso, running over his shoulders and down his chest. His whole being shook with rage. _I hate you_. The force grew strong around him, things shattering and breaking, torture device that had just been used on him began ripping into tiny pieces, becoming a useless heap of garbage. The whole building shook, and outside the never ending storm began thundering, the roads splitting open, speeders dropping out of the sky.

He'd gotten him angry then. Good.

Chaos erupted outside, people running and screaming, trying to escape the sudden whirlwind of destruction.

Palpatine snarled, annoyed by his apprentice's lack of answer. "I asked you a question, Vader, and I want an answer. You should know it without a doubt, seeing all I've done for you. You would never be who you are today without me. "

Just like that, everything stopped. The storm stopped, the splitting of the ground, the shaking, everything, and there was sudden silence.

Palpatine grabbed Vader by his hair, pulling his head back painfully, forcing Vader to look at him strait in the eye. He used the force to rip out the the barbed piece of metal that had been stuck in his side, making his apprentice grit his teeth. "Answer me." Palpatine near screamed.

Vader cried out when Palpatine shoved it back in the same wound, feeling his warm blood seep through his pants. "Yes, Master."

Palpatine's eyes stared into his, before he removed the metal from his side none to gently, no sound but harsh breaths coming out of him. "Well. That wasn't that hard, now was it?"

He left Vader to bleed in the room.

* * *

Padmé watched from her window, her gaze becoming worried when she noticed it. The ever-present shadow covering Imperial center began growing, and within seconds the entire city of all she could see was dark, lighting beginning to light up the sky, the slowly revolving cloud growing stronger. Speeders started falling from the sky, dropping to the ground, she could hear the people began screaming, the streets flooding with people scattering like ants from a destroyed anthill. Everywhere she looked she saw people running. Then her whole flat began shaking and Padmé gasped, the force of it knocking her to the floor. A slight panic set over her, her handmaidens screams echoing through her apartment.

Then she heard it. The loud, booming, deafening cracking sounds of the planet splitting open. Only one thought went through her head.

Vader.

Vader's 'temper tantrums' were horrific things to see. She'd seen the devastated outcomes of such a situation before. But never had she been in one. Never had it ever happened on Coruscant to such a scale. Her whole body went into a haze. Words and screams became muffled sounds, the whole world tilting in a way that reminded her of her nightmares. Everything became unclear and she was left numb.

Vader.

Then, calm. Everything stopped in an instant. It just ended. The ground gave one more shudder, like an heavy sigh, then calm. For a solid minute she didn't move. She just sat there, before slowly standing. She walked numbly to her bedroom to find her handmaidens sitting inside the bathroom with Katus, huddling together. She walked back into her room, picking up a blanket, then walking back over to her huddled friends, joining the group and pulling the blanket over all of them.

They sat like that, just huddled together for hours, not a single word said or a single tear shed.

* * *

Adm. Jāuhn Paddit winced as he watched another neck snap under the pressure of Vader's fingertips.

Vader was livid with anger.

The Adm. knew Vader well enough to know that Vader wasn't just some man who killed out of some unholy glee. Vader wasn't that type. He was angry. He was frustrated. He was physically wounded. And someone had to suffer for it. It wasn't sick pleasure; it was release. He didn't need someone to suffer because he did, he didn't need the joy of killing someone, he need to take his anger out on something.

And these people deserved it anyway.

It wasn't that he found release by hurting someone, but Vader kept all of his feeling bottled up inside, and when the situation allowed, he exploded, destroying everything in his path. These people unfortunately happened to be part of those in his path.

Paddit saw this happening more and more frequently. First the incident on Voss, and what happened today. If something didn't happen soon, Vader might lose it and go berserk on all of Coruscant.

He didn't even want know how that would turn out.

Or who would be cleaning up the damage he did to Coruscant.

He already knew who would be in charge of that.

He would.

In moments like this he really hated Palpatine. There was no reason for him to do what he had done to Vader.

When Vader got like this, he destroyed everything. People only focused on what happened to the citizens. They were struck by the marvelous destruction that power like his could cause. But they didn't see that he didn't just destroy humans. He destroyed anything, everything to work it out of his system, and with power on a scale such as his, occasionally a few people got caught in between.

Ironic how someone so adamant about control created havoc when unleashed.

If they opened their eyes they would see that he didn't torture random people. If fact, he never tortured anyone. He was very straight to the point, using force when he saw fit, or going straight through their minds himself. Then, he killed them, simply. There was no painful foreplay, at least when Palpatine didn't demand it.

For himself, when stressed after a long and unfair day, he went home to his wife or got a massage. Sadly, Vader had no wife, and having one would probably drive him out of his mind.

Now watching him kill all the captured rebels in the interrogation room, he decided to interfere. "Milord, might I suggest a nice electrostaff training session, hmm?"

* * *

A few minutes later, they were locked in combat. He knew that Vader was going light on him, even though it didn't feel like it. If Vader wanted him dead, he would be fried and dead. Deep fried.

That didn't mean that his whole body didn't feel ready to drop. Vader swiped low, forcing the Imperial to jump. The next blow was quickly directed at his head, and he barely had time to block it before another came, faster than before.

This continued for some time and Jāuhn even managed to make a few offensive strikes although they never came close to hitting Vader. He was just about to attack again when he looked down to his empty hand, then a his staff, discarded on the floor.

"You work a staff well, Jāuhn. Now, go and rest assured that I won't destroy anything else tonight."

Jāuhn bowed, saying his farewell to his superior, more at ease at his words.

When Vader said something, you could count on his word, good or bad, may your life depend upon it.

"Are you sure about this milady?" Dormé asked, her eyes doubtful.

Padmé sighed. No, she wasn't. But she was invited, and had accepted, so it was necessary for her to go. What happened yesterday was of no consequence. "Yes, I'm sure." She smiled halfheartedly over her shoulder at her concerned handmaiden.

Dormé smiled back doubtfully.

Padmé tried to lighten the mood by jesting. "I mean, if I don't reprimand the Emperor about his wayward apprentice, than who will?"

Dormé laughed quietly. "And you're the only one who can get away with it." After a moment she frowned slightly and turned back to Padmé. "Milady...please be careful. You know how Palpatine been keeping Vader around Imperial center. Perhaps you shouldn't be so...open with you're views around him."

Padmé winked. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong. That's exactly what he's trying to accomplish. By bringing Vader to Imperial center, he's trying to scare people into silence. And if I was an rebel, I would be scared. But I'm not. I'm just an stubborn, willful girl who happens to be highly intelligent and hates dictatorships. And because I have nothing to fear and a clear background, why should I shut up? I have every excuse to be free with my opinions, and honestly, it would hurt my pride to ever lose to Darth Vader."

* * *

The extremely handsome man that stared back at him was no illusion. If he wasn't so devoted to the female sex, he would have fallen for himself. Who in their right mind wouldn't? But tonight he had a special conquest.

Senator Amidala.

From the moment he had laid eyes on her, he had known that he had wanted her. The woman walked around so provocatively dressed all the time. That time when he had hired an hacking team to break in her apartment, he never expected the sight that laid before him.

Her, completely bared, just waiting for him.

Then there was the baby. Thank goodness that someone was taking that annoying brat away. He didn't think he could stand her if she had a child. Thankfully she didn't.

When he had first run into him, he immediately noticed how taken the woman was with him from a first glance. The way her eyes widened in awe, her lips parted, and the way when she stood she purposefully leaned forward, giving him a glimpse of her chest. He had played the handsome, charming man he was, and immediately had her in his grasp. She'd been playing dumb with him, he was sure that was the reason of all the coy gazes he sent his way. The minx had probably wanted him to chase her. It was extremely arrogant of her, most women would be honored if he so much as glanced their way, but he decided to play along with it.

But now, he'd seen her twice. He'd chased, and it was time to make his move.

After two hours of standing in front of the mirror, he was ready. Rush Clovis was going to take that woman home with him tonight.

* * *

Padmé paused, not expecting the sight in the elevator before her. "Senator Clovis...what a pleasant surprise."

He gave her a dazzling smile. "Senator Amidala. May I start with how," he paused, his eyes raking over her ensemble. "Ravishing you look tonight. Absolutely divine."

Padmé smiled genuinely, stepping into the lift. Her outfit was an traditional off the shoulder Nubian dress. The dark, almost black off the shoulder piece was almost like a tiny shawl, the gray bodice hugging her torso. A dark belt that matched the imitation shawl separated it at the waist, before spreading out in long skirt. Golden bands surrounded the upper parts of her loose sleeves and her wrists. Her ears were adorned with long, pretty, dangling, custom-made earrings, the glittering blue gem centered in the middle easy to be mistaken for the famous Nubian crystals. The gem had been given to Padmé by Obi-Wan, as an keepsake. They were original lightsaber crystals from his old lightsaber, and her favorite gift. They symbolized the keeper of the peace, of democracy, and her best friend. Since it was rather large, she had had them cut and set into the prettiest pair of earrings she had ever owned.

"Thank you, Rush." The doors closed, and the only lights were from city, the whole lift made of more glass than anything else.

Padmé glanced at him, his slicked back hair, and dark grey suit making him look positively handsome. "You look nice. Are you headed to the ball as well?"

He smiled charmingly. "I wouldn't miss it."

The doors opened and she walked ahead, outside into the chilly midnight air. She was about to call a public transport before Rush stopped her. "Senator, why don't we take my speeder?"

Padmé shook her head. "No, we can't do that. We would probably be seen, and if we arrived together the holonet will immediately think we're together."

Rush frowned slightly. "What's wrong with that?"

Padmé raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious? I don't date, Rush, and for me to go with you would seem like a statement. They would think that we've been carrying on a secret relationship. And I don't know about you, but I don't want to supply the holonet with any foolish gossip about something as utterly ridiculous as that."

Rush looked stricken. "Well...It couldn't do any real harm, could it? I mean, we even match."

Padmé nodded. "Exactly. Couples match. If we go alone no one will ever notice. But going together would be disastrous."

Rush sighed, pleading. "One night? Please? The media won't be a problem, I swear. Besides, I want you to take you as my date."

Padmé froze. He what?

Rush made puppy dog eyes. "Please."

Padmé wanted to say no, but at the same time she didn't have the heart to. Finally, she gave in. "Fine."

* * *

The balcony served as a good place for escape from the stuffiness of the ball.

And her date.

Not that Rush was in any way unpleasant, but she didn't feel right on a date with him. It was...constricting, whereas if she was alone she didn't have to be nice and polite. Rush was an amazing date, funny and charming, a bit arrogant, but an nice guy, but she felt uncomfortable with the blatant flirting and innuendo covered in suggestive phrases.

And Vader was here. From the moment she walked in she felt it. The dark, cold, dead aura along with the feeling that she was walking on thin and melting ice over a lava pit. Then she saw him. By Palpatine on his elevated seat, standing there ready to snap. And then, he had left, leaving her antsy and on edge.

She could feel the chills creeping up her skin. And she had to get away, and she didn't care if it was almost time to leave. So she went to the balcony.

And was surprised to see it occupied, the large figure that slowly turned to face her when she walked into his quiet haven.

Was this a thing now!?

"Lord Vader." His name came out like a quiet whisper, small and full of fear. "What a...what a pleasant surprise." She immediately curtseyed, her eyes low on the ground.

He was silent a long time, and she could feel his hidden gaze on her. The lack of verbal response stretched for an whole minute before he finally spoke. "Do not lie Senator. It is not an admirable trait for someone in your position, who value morals as much as you do. Seeing me is perhaps the last thing you could possibly want."

Padmé blinked, staring at the tall, intimidating, powerfully built figure, before a slow smile broke out on her face of it's own volition. A small laugh escaped her. "True."

She sobered quickly, though, remembering where she was. "I didn't mean to interrupt...your peace. I'll go."

Vader cocked his head slightly to the side. "Stay."

Padmé quickly objected, not wanting to disturb him. "No, really, I'll just-"

"Stay." His voice was stern, spoken as an command expected to be followed completely. "If I was anyone else, would you leave?"

Padmé though carefully. "No."

The darkness made his face to be completely submerged in blackness, the light not reaching any part of his face. He quietly scrutinized her, seeming to come to an judgement in his head. "I find it odd that you bias your opinion. It is understandable in some circumstances, where it depends solely on circumstances, but you are all about equality and fairness of judgment, and yet you are unsettled by me, but will admit that you would not be if I was someone else. Do you pick and chose who should be allowed in each category? You feel free to do as you please around others, but you taper it down around me. Is it out of fear?"

Padmé was a bit thrown off guard by his observation. But thinking about it, she felt that Vader was a extraordinary case, and under the circumstances, and consequently should be treated differently. And that part about him knowing that he intimidated her stung her pride. "I admit that I have been biased towards you, but I do believe that you fall under extraordinary circumstances. I also cannot confirm if you completely mentally stable, seeing how you have lost your temper several times, each resulting in an amazing amount of destruction, so forgive me for thinking that I should tread carefully around the person who so happened to try to blow up the karking city yesterday evening. I can also assure you that there is no reason to deny that accusation as I have the results before, and no one in the galaxy has ever been capable of such. Do you deny it?"

A soft whoosh of air that sounded like an exhale through the nose out of amusement came from him. "I do not, and although I do not consider myself 'extraordinary' in any way, you have still pre-judged me."

Padmé nearly threw her hands in the air. "How?"

"Without knowing me, you judged me based on what you'd heard. Just because I am powerful, you immediately assumed that I would kill someone for something that minuscule. I may be short-tempered, but I'm not petty."

"But you've killed over some person's comment." Padmé pointed out, remembering the first time Vader had killed someone in public. Two days after his appearance and the beginning of the Empire, when he had been show in society, a young man, outraged at what he had done to the republic started yelling about how wrong it was for an authorized murderer should be allowed, and had been skewered by Vader in front of everyone present. Padmé hadn't been there, but she had seen the holovids.

"I had a very specific reason. The person in question tried to insult me, and some ground rules needed to be set. I wanted to establish control, and he was an example. In order to gain control, you must destroy all who question your authority. I found no pleasure in his death save that I had created order. I did not kill him for any sadistic reason. His death was absolutely necessary. It is foolish to assume that I did it with predestined evil intent."

Padmé stood there, processing what he was saying. "You mean to tell me, that you have never killed someone for pleasure?"

"The only others were as forms as release."

Padmé unconsciously scrunched her nose. "Release? Of what? Emotions? I didn't think you had any. Any positive ones at least."

"An completely ill-formed notion. I am sure you are aware of the principle 'until confirmed, assume nothing'. It would do you good to try it. I am capable of being frustrated."

Padmé sighed. "Most, when after having a bad day, go to the gym, or the bar, or to their spouse, not use people as their personal punching bag."

Vader seemed to almost shrug. "When a person becomes angry and they explode, it is encouraged to get it out of your system, effectively eliminating it, least it grows to an bigger problem. The same with force sensitives, except on a larger scale, and as you pointed out, that I am excused because I am in 'extraordinary circumstances'. It cannot be contained. All those whose lives are ended are those who have death penalty. I merely need something to calm down before more excessive damage can occur. Anything I can get my hands on. However that does not include innocent beings."

Padmé finally nodded, accepting his brutal but honest answer. It made sense the _he_ and Vader were 'friends'. They views were almost exactly the same. Perhaps she should ask him. "Lord Vader-"

The call of her name caused her to turn.

"Padmé! There you are. I was so worried! I've been looking all over for you!" Rush breathed heavily, obviously tired after his long search. "Do you have any idea how long I was looking for you?"

Padmé looked behind herself but was greeted with only the Coruscant city. After a long moment she looked back at Rush, smiling pleasantly. She had yet to understand the disappearing trick. Perhaps Vader had taught _him_? "I'm sorry, I just stepped outside a moment. Are we about to leave?"

It took her three hours to get into bed. Calming Rush, the dreadfully long ride home, convincing him that it wasn't necessary to walk her to her door, telling all to her handmaidens, getting Katus to bed, taking a bath, slipping into her panties, and falling into bed. Now she sat, thinking about all the things that happened to her the past two weeks.

And finally, she turned off the light.

 **A/N: Whoo. This chapter is so long. I got stuck at the end unfortunately. Anyways, I hoped enjoyed! For anyone wondering why I changed in Chapter VI the '(six days later)' to '(four days later)' it's because I remembered the STARWARS calendar. Same with Katus's birthday. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Comment and ask me questions!**

 **xoxoxo,**

 **Christina.**

 **P.s. Katus name is pronounced Kate-us, not Cat-us, and Jāuhn's name is pronounced Jay-ooh-wn not not Jaun, or John.**

 **. STARWARS time**

 **Star Wars time calendar.**

 **Days of the week:**

 **Primeday**

 **Centaxday**

 **Taungsday**

 **Zhellday**

 **Benduday**

 **Time measurement:**

 **60 seconds = 1 minute**

 **60 minutes = 1 hour**

 **24 hours = 1 day**

 **5 days = 1 week**

 **35 days = 1 month**

 **7 weeks = 1 month**

 **365 days = 1 year**

 **10 months = 1 year, plus all festivals.**

 **Festivals:**

 **Word count: 6695**


	12. IX: Minese, Obsidian, And Shredders

**A/N: Wassup my friends? Greetings from your favorite fourteen year old writer.**

Still.

So still it might have been dead. The only movement was the soft breeze ticking the lush grass, creating tiny waves in the the water resting in the scattered ruts in the ground. No life moved anywhere. Twisted trees, fallen, broken and destroyed lay flat on the ground. Gigantic cracks separated the land masses from each other. Bodies, half covered in mud, had been preened of any goods they had. The beautiful place was still so beautiful in a broken, desolate way.

Destruction.

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi stood on a large boulder, overlooking the destroyed battlefield. Dear force. How were they going to ever stop Vader?

Then came a heard Minese came scampering and bouncing out of the unaffected woods. The Jedi started, surprised at the sudden outburst. They came, skipping and jumping over all the war zone, their short, furry tails up like flags as they jumped flat out. There must have been a hundred of them, all racing across the battlefield, jumping across the large gaps with ease, streaking towards...him.

Obi-Wan was confused. Were these migrating minese? Where they being chased? Should he move out of the way? They slowed when they approached him, jumping from ledge to ledge on the large boulder, then hopping around him, nestling into the ground, and nuzzling around his boots. A few stood up on their hind legs, their noses twitching a mile a minute as they watched him expectantly. The others picked pieces of grass they found on the mossy rock, while others cleaned their faces with their soft paws. Some stretched out beside him to nap, content to sit next to his boots.

Apparently, they liked company.

Obi-Wan had never seen an minese besides as pets. Their large brown doe eyes were inquisitive and bright, and their nose were small, constantly twitching. Long ears, perked up at him, while the lazy sleepy ones ear's laid flat against their backs. The long back legs were obviously specifically made for jumping. Their fur appeared soft and thick, mostly for black and brown, and Obi-Wan was sure that the pelts had been used to make some rich woman's coat before.

Obi-wan slowly sat, trying not to startle them, although they came to him, looking at him like he was their master here feed them. They backed away a little, giving him space to sit down and stretch out. One he did, they immediately came back, a few hopping onto his lap to sleep.

Well.

Obi-Wan hesitantly began stroking one's fur, marveling at the softness of it. A few began sniffing his pockets. He smiled, pulling out some fruit that he had taken as a snack. He offered it to the little white one standing on his hind legs in front of him. It immediately took it, walking away with it, occasionally fighting off his squabbling friends until he had it a safe distance away, before nibbling away the entire palm sized fruit. After he finished, he stood again, wiping his face with his paws, and, clean, came back to Obi-Wan for more.

They seemed content to keep him company and let him pet them.

Obi-Wan turned is attention back to the battlefield. If only the Force would provide him with answers. He needed answers. The leaders of the Rebellion kept it secret from the rest, but it was only a matter of time before they found out that they didn't have much time. The Rebellion was dying. They didn't have the resources to keep going. Unless something happened soon, they would be over with.

The Force had promised an savior. One destined to save them. One to destroy the Sith, bring balance to the Force, and save the Galaxy. Or the prophecy had. For centuries, the Republic had stood, the Jedi standing behind it as the keepers of the peace. When Palpatine became Emperor, the mysterious dark force that had been working undercover surfaced, and Palpatine declared the Jedi as traitors. Vader destroyed all the Jedi temple, turning the clones against the Jedi, carrying out an sentence called Order 66.

How the Force had cried that day. The death of so many, magnified by the loss of so many force sensitives. Every force sensitive felt it, every tiny force being snuffed out, while the Dark Side grew, swelling with victorious triumph. He remembered that day well. The day that had haunted his nightmares for years.

Before, during Palpatine's rise to power and while the fogginess due to the Dark Side grew, the Jedi had already guessed that dark days had awaited them. And when Master Yoda had a vision about it, their suspicions were confirmed. The Jedi would fall. They began searching for something to prevent it, and that was when they found the prophecy, so old that they had nearly forgotten it. When the Force became completely unreadable and the entire of Coruscant became heavy and dark they knew another Sith had arrived.

It had been hope and inspiration to all of them. They searched everywhere for him, meditated endlessly, and begged the Force for answers. But then the Empire had come, and had stayed in place for four years. The majority Jedi had been destroyed. The Temples were gone. Vader had built his home on Coruscant. The Rebellion was nearly gone.

How long were they going to go on like this? How much longer could they go on like this?

Obi-Wan hardly believed that there was an 'Chosen One' after all. If there was, where was he? The entire Republic depended on him, and the Alliance was trying to hold off the Empire until he got here. But Obi-Wan had come to the place, that even if there was an such thing as a 'Chosen One', he couldn't sit back and wait for him to come rescue them. Just look were they were.

And what if the prophecy was misread? Or perhaps untrue? They'd have been sitting around waiting for something to come that wasn't coming.

The others didn't know, but the Council had mostly given up on the prophecy as well. They still spoke about it, but only as something to encourage the members of the rebellion that they had left. If they told them that the Chosen One didn't exist, they would lose all hope and the rebellion would be no more. But now the truth was nearly unavoidable.

That data chip was their last resort.

Truly, the fate of the Rebel Alliance rested in the hands of Padmé Amidala.

But for know, he they could do was hope, hope that somehow everything would work out.

It is only thing left for him to do.

* * *

Jāuhn walked into his apartment, happy that the day was done. Never again was he ever training with Vader. At least not for a while.

He immediately sought out his wife, walking towards the kitchen, guided by the sensational smells of cooking. Walking into the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of his wife bent over the stove, checking...something...in the oven. Her long, thick, wavy black hair was smooth and shiny, braided into a plait, long enough to touch the back of her thighs when it was down. Her eyes were cobalt black, matching her hair, her lightly tanned skin spattered by tiny freckles almost unintelligible to the eye. She wore her favorite lounge clothes, one of Jāuhn's grey imperial shirts and some black leggings.

She turned after a moment, and was surprised to see him, not expecting him to be home early. "Jāuhn!" She dropped the ingredients in her hands, running to him and launching herself in his arms. He hugged her back, chuckling at her enthusiasm and reveling in her touch. His wife was absolutely adorable. She pulled back, taking his face in her soft hands, and kissed him firmly. "Mm."

He rested his head against hers, content to just hold her. "Hey."

She smiled conspiratorially back at him, her black eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hey."

"I love you." He said, grinning like the love struck fool he was. Dear force, he was in deep.

She smiled, closing her eyes. "I love you more."

She released his going back to the stove. "You're back early." She observed, glancing at the clock.

"Yeah." He took off his robe, hanging it by the door, along with his boots. He walked back into the kitchen, jumping up on the counter, watching his wife work. "Vader sent me home early. He pinned Tarkin with cleanup duty."

She glanced him curiously, her round lips pursed slightly. "What happened this time? These episodes are becoming so much more frequent." His wife, Camil, was quite used to Vader, and knew him almost as well as Jāuhn did. Every bit as enthusiastic about the justice as he was, she was always curious about what went on in there. She was one of the few people not afraid of Vader. She had been of course, the first time she had met him. He had invited Vader over because his wife always worried about the company he was keeping. She had been so mad at him. But Vader had been very cordial to his wife, and had quickly become welcome in his home.

He sighed. "I don't know. He went to see Palpatine, and then he...sort of wrecked Coruscant a little...and was in a very bad mood afterwards."

"Well. That explains it." She turned back to the stove. "That sick bastard. I can't wait until Vader sets him straight. And um..." Camil turned back to him, looking him up and down. "You're okay, right?"

Jāuhn smiled slightly. "I'm fine. Just got hit over the head with a staff a little."

She rolled her eyes, taking a large pot out of the oven. "You know I like Vader, but sometimes, just sometimes, I worry about the company you keep." She said teasingly, going to set the table.

Jāuhn followed. "What about you? How was your day?"

His wife had been part of the local force for five years. They had originally met when he had gotten into a squabble because both of them found a rebel spy at the same time and had argued for hours over who truly go the credit for his capture. They had a sort of love-hate relationship for a short time before he admitted his feelings to himself. He proposed immediately as any Imperial would, and she surprised him and herself by accepting. Three weeks into their knowledge of each other's existence, they were engaged, and three weeks later they were married. In moments like this he knew that he had made the right decision.

"Meh. Not much happened today, just a few little things. We had to take a dead woman's body out of a freezer." She shrugged and sat down.

"Really?" Well that wasn't surprising. He himself had to deal with situations like that before.

They talked over different subjects over dinner, most situated on political-related problems. Afterwards when they were cuddled on the couch, she decided to ask him to tell her a story. "What about?"

She curled into his side, stretching her toes. "Tell me about the first time you met Vader. Or when you became friends."

"Hm, let me see..." He paused, thinking back to three years ago. "Well..."

 _(Flashback)_

 _Three years ago,_

 _En route to Ord Massel_

 _Jāuhn snapped to attention as did the rest of the men did when their leader entered the room, the room so quiet a pin drop would be a crash._

 _"Alright. Listen up. We're heading to a battle, and I need you all ready and fully rested, so you will be assigned bunks. Due to a failure in the sewer system, over half of the cabins have been flooded, and are unusable. We're going to have to fit you five to a room, two on each bunk and one on the floor. However, since there is an odd number of cabins and an even number of crew, one of you will have to share with me."_

 _He gestured at Jāuhn. "Lieutenant Paddit, come with me. The rest of you, go."_

 _Jāuhn just stood there while the rest of them walked away, feeling the most unlucky person in the universe. Vader turned and left, not sparing them another glance. Jāuhn blinked, once, twice, then hurried after him._

 _I'm dead. What if I move too much and the bed is squeaky, and Vader kills me?_

 _With a wave of his hand, the door to Vader's room slid open. Unlike the crew cabins, with their standard grey metal walls, his room was pitch black. And instead of the utilitarian bunk made into the wall, there was a chair._

 _He stood there awkwardly. Was he supposed to sleep...or what?_

 _Vader closed the door and shrugged out of his hooded robe, dropping it nonchalantly on the floor._

 _Jauhn's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. No one, absolutely no one had ever seen Vader's face. At least, none that lived to speak of it. Of course there were rumors to what the Sith hid behind his hood, though none of them were anywhere near to what the truth was._

 _For one, Vader was young, perhaps even younger Jāuhn. Aside from a few scars, his skin was entirely without blemishes. Sapphire eyes flecked with molten gold were hard under carefully trimmed dark blond hair._

 _Sitting down on the chair, Vader removed first his boots and socks, then peeled off gloves and outer tunic, tossing them on top of the robe. Mechanical fingers danced across the arm of the chair for a moment, and it hummed, slowly unfolding itself into a reclining position until Vader was lying flat on his back, his eyes closed._

 _Jāuhn stared at the resting Commander in Chief in a mix of curiosity and fear._

 _"Why aren't you asleep, Lieutenant?"_

 _Swallowing, Jāuhn asked, "Where am I to sleep, my Lord?"_

 _"On the floor, where do you think?" His tone was laced with exhaustion, and he cracked an eye open to glare at him. "If you were thinking I was going to share my bed with you, Lieutenant, you are very much mistaken."_

 _"N... no, my Lord," Jāuhn stuttered, fighting to keep his hands away from his throat. He had seen many a man die for less. "I simply wished to be certain of your intentions, my Lord."_

 _"Well, now that you are certain, Lieutenant," Vader growled, "Go to sleep."_

 _And he did._

 _(End of Flashback)_

"...After that, he promoted me to Admiral, and since then, we've always been on good terms." He looked down at his wife, whose eyes were closed, but was still awake. "Hmm."

He stood, picking her up from the couch. "Come on, you need to go to bed."

Once they were nicely snuggled in bed, his arms around her and her leg over his he whispered. "I love you."

He felt her smile against his neck. "I love you more."

"Not true."

"Go to sleep, Jāuhn."

And he did.

* * *

"Where is Lord Vader!?"

Jāuhn sighed wearily. Why? Why on today of all days? He had been ripped from his bed, forced to go to work 18:00 just to go to a meeting that Vader didn't appear at. Where was he anyways?

He stifled a yawn. Why? Why? Why?

"Admiral Paddit." Grand Moff Tarkin addressed him, annoyed with the circumstances. "You'd be so kind as to find out why Vader dragged us all out of bed for a meeting that he didn't show up for? But before you go, here's an datapad with all the happenings of the night. Take that to Vader, will you? The rest of you gents, go home. This meeting is dismissed."

Jāuhn sighed, picking up the datapad containing records of all events that happened while he was away, wondering why he had been chosen for this. Probably because he was the only one of them Vader treated favorably.

Why?

He sighed, deciding to comm. Vader's mansion. Perhaps his droid knew his whereabouts.

"Hello, I am C-3PO, human cybo..."

"I know who you are. Where is Vader?"

"Oh, Admiral Paddit! How nice to hear you are alright! How is your wife?"

"Vader, threepio, Vader. Where is he?"

"Oh. My Master is here, asleep in his room."

Jāuhn pinched the bridge of his nose.

 _Why?_

 _Why him?_

Jāuhn pondered on these things while walking to Vader's slightly morbidly designed home. He had always been confused why his friend had built his home in replica of a place that had caused him so much suffering. He was let in immediately, and walked straight to his personal bedroom.

The dark room lit up when he entered, the red band around the room glowing slightly, softly, enough to brighten the room in a dimly.

Vader was there, wrapped in all of his blankets, bare from the waist up. His gloved arm covered his face, and his calm breathing signified that he was awake, even if just barely. Jāuhn was tempted to pour ice water on him for waking him up and not getting up himself.

"Don't even think about it."

"And if I do?"

Vader's arm shifted slightly, and one icy blue eye glared lazily back at him. "Don't make me kill you Jāuhn. You've been an good friend so far."

Jāuhn scoffed. "You couldn't kill me if you wanted to, Milord. You'd care to much."

Vader snorted, his eyes closing again. "Don't count on it."

Despite what Vader said, he knew that he would never lay a finger on him. Unless he did something stupid like unreasonably fall in love with the rebel concept. Which wasn't the slightest possibility.

Jāuhn cleared his throat. So was he getting up or what? Sighing, he set down the datapad, and grabbed the comforter, ripping it off the Sith. Vader groaned, reaching out with the force and pulling the blanket back.

"It's time to wake up Milord."

Vader sat up, his expression downright murderous. "What?" He snapped.

Jāuhn handed him the datapad, sitting down on the end of the bed. "If I may ask, why did you have us all get up and then stay in bed?"

"You may not."

He watched as his friend skimmed through the datapad, before it shattered in his fingertips. It was his way of making sure no one ever was able to see the classified information he'd just seen. He'd probably have his droid come get it later. His eye briefly skimmed over the lone stripes that decorated Vader's back, rising over his shoulders and on his neck.

Cruelty.

Jāuhn yawned, standing and stretching. "I'll wait for you outside, Milord."

It was odd how a person who could be ready immediately if the situation called for it would prefer to stay in bed than go to a meeting he had arranged.

* * *

Work.

Endless piles of endless work, piled on her desk. File after file. It was all futile. All of these useless bills, fixing minor problems of the Empire, and yet none for anything worth fighting for. An endless well of nothingness to squabble about, all of it an distraction from the true evil taking place behind the scenes.

This, this is the life of Padmé Amidala.

Work for years to come. Work of absolutely no consequence.

And she was sick of it.

The fate of the Alliance had been placed in her hands.

They trusted her with their future.

She would not let them down.

One after the other, she tossed them into disposal chute. The Alliance was dying, and she wasn't going to waste another moment on useless files.

Her best friend was going underground tonight, and here she was sorting flimsis.

Locking up for the day at 02:00, she started her journey home. Her journey was quickly cut short by an patora, whom she immediately recognized as Senator Chuchi, a beautiful, brave young girl with high morals and values, which reminded Padmé distinctly of herself when she first came to the senate. The girl was unfortunately nervous at the thought of standing up to Palpatine, although she did appose the Empire.

"Senator Amidala." She bowed politely, but her body posture seemed stiff, almost on edge.

"Senator Chuchi." Padmé bowed as well, a warm smile on her face.

"Senator Amidala, might I enquire an tête-à-tête with you? There is an urgent matter that concerns you that I wanted to speak about." She looked nervous even though she had regained her composure.

"Of course. What time is convenient for you?" Padmé could barely control her curiosity.

"As soon as possible." She glanced behind her as though she was expecting someone to appear behind her.

Padmé's brows pulled down in confusion at her unease. "Well, I am retiring early today, if you would like to meet me elsewhere?"

Chuchi hugged her suddenly, kissing both of Padmé's cheeks, a farewell custom normal for her people, while Padmé reciprocated the action, taken aback slightly. "Meet me at this address at 05:00. I'll come a half an hour later." Chuchi murmured against her cheek, her fingers slipping something into the hem of Padmé's skirt quickly before she pulled away and left.

Padmé took public transport home, hurrying into her apartment, locking the door. She reached into her skirt, pulling out a tiny piece of flimsy with an address an Chuchi's name on it.

When she first was introduced into the art of secret correspondence, she had kept kept most of the information on a passworded datapad. Unfortunately, she discovered that datapads were easily hacked. Documenting such things were no longer an option. If it was possible to be found, then it was not safe. She couldn't allow anything to be traced to her. So, she got a shredder. She memorized the information, then she destroyed it enough that it was unfixable and no different than random house dirt.

She shredded the scrap into fine dust, and blew it into the air, making sure it was unretrievable.

She wasn't quite sure how many confidential messages she breathed every day.

* * *

She sat in the tub, the water a long time gone cold.

When?

When had she stopped feeling? When had she gotten used to a life of constant peril? When had she gotten used to the idea that there was redemption?

She wasn't paranoid, she was cautious.

Paranoid: Unreasonably or obsessively anxious, suspicious or mistrustful, pessimistic.

Cautious: Careful to avoid potential problems or danger.

Never would she have guessed that she would be a person who carried a blaster wherever she went. That she would take extreme risks just to be able to not break her facade by looking over her shoulder.

She wasn't hurting, she was numb.

Hurting: Experiencing mental or physical pain or distress.

Numb: Unable to feel, to respond, dead.

Never did she think she wouldn't feel the energy, the life inside her, the fire she had once had. That it would show on her face. She still fought, but she didn't see an end.

She wasn't an savior, she was an murderer.

Savior: A person who saves someone or something from danger and is regarded with the veneration of an religious figure.

Murderer: One who commits murder.

Never had she thought when she had been a naïve little girl hoping to make thing better that she would be the cause of the way thing were. That she would be the reason of so many lives.

She wasn't breaking, she was broken.

Breaking: In the action of breaking, separating.

Broken: Having been fractured and and damaged and no longer in one piece or in working order.

And somehow she couldn't find anything to help.

A part of her didn't even want to. She was better this way, not hoping, just fighting because she couldn't do anything else.

She was so broken that she was too twisted to care.

And all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put her together again.

* * *

Nervousness, a feeling she had long grown immune to, was evident on Senator Chuchi's face, as they sat in a back corner of an club.

"I've been talking to Bail almost three years now. When the Empire first started, he tried to convince me to join the rebellion, but I was scared. I told I couldn't, but promised that if he personally ever needed help, I would lend my assistance. A few days ago, I talked to Bail again, and he told me that he's leaving tonight. He also informed me of the state of the Alliance. I thought it over, and while I cannot join the rebellion, the planet of Pantora wants to support you. We cannot send our soldiers to you, but we can provide clothes, supplies, artillery, ships, and food." She paused, having let everything out in one breath. "I can't promise that I will ever be able to house Rebels though."

Padmé inward felt a small bit of hope growing in her. Perhaps this was what they needed. With the backing of the Patora system, they may be able to renew their strength. For the longest time she felt, especially in these last few weeks, she felt that the galaxy had come to an crisis, that something was bound to happen soon. Her original thought concerned the dying out of the Rebellion, but perhaps it would be their comeback.

She allows a tiny smile to overcome her, a smile from inside, one of the ones people couldn't see. That tiny hope was growing inside, lighting her up inside. It gave her something to hold on to, something to make her body smile.

Intimidation.

The gate is as strong as concrete walls, smooth and polished, as black as night. There was no light visible between them, and they were so tall she couldn't see above them. A glowing red line went around the inside of the doors.

Their frightening appearance and the altogether foreboding appearance, they symbolized something far more sinister. Behind those doors was the things she feared most, the things that haunted her dreams. The things the things that tormented her. The things that took away her hope. The thing that took away everything away from her, and that continued to take things away from her.

Her deepest fears, and the darkness secrets of the galaxy were in these rooms. And the terrifying enigma behind it all.

She stood in front of the the tall building, wondering how someone could even call an place so intimidating an home.

Finally, after standing at the gates of Darth Vader's home for ten minutes, Padmé Amidala raised her hand touched it.

 **A/N: Am I like your favorite updater yet? This chapter wasn't fantastic, but don't worry, new chapters soon. your support and enthusiasm is such great motivation, especially since this is my first 'fic. I was so sure no one would ever read or care for it, that it'd be an okay, but not in the favorite stories, so the fact that you guys even take time for it is amazing. Yes, I made a cliffy, don't hate me. Also minese are made up creatures since I couldn't quite find an good equivalent. Minese are our modern day bunnies.**

 **As always, I love you so much, thank you for being part of my family and I'll see you guys next time. (Stole TheGabbyShow's outro.)**

 **xx,**

 **Christina.**

 **Fun Fact: A tree nearly fell on me and missed by inches.**

 **Word Count: 4672**


	13. X: A Kiss To Make It Better

**A/N: MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU! Ahem...enjoy!**

Finally, after standing at the gates of Darth Vader's home for ten minutes, Padmé Amidala raised her hand touched it.

The moment her palm makes contact with the door, an red line traced her fingers.

"Senator Amidala. Welcome."

The smooth, automated female's voice caused her to step back, looking for the source of it. The solid doors began to dematerialized under her fingertips, causing her to back away a few more steps, her eyes widening in slight panic. After a moment, she stepped forward, her gaze up on now visible giant pyramid.

Huge.

Made of several layers, the immense structure was completely black, save the red lines decorating it. The entire building seemed as though it had been carved out of obsidian.

A short pathway to the steps that led to entrance of the structure changed, going from black to glowing red. She stared at highlighted part of the walk that would send her to her doom. Was she sure she wanted to enter this almost demonic place?

A few hesitant steps forward saw her past the entrance. She turned around to see the gate door reappeared behind her, trapping her inside. There was no going back now.

Padmé breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. How did Vader even survive living in his own house? Looking up, she noticed the storm that was always brewing over the red peaks centered over his house, churning slowly around it like the beginning of an tornado. His home was truly the centre of the storm.

Every nerve was alert on her body, the absolute stillness and void of sound chilling her body as she walked forward. Every hair stood on end, the every click of her heels on the lit path as sharp as ice on her ears. Cold tingles ran through her, like icy fingers dancing over her skin, as she climbed the stairs, walking directly in the middle of the the lit path that went straight to the door.

The thick red lines the that slanted towards each other in an triangle went on other of the double doors, which themselves were over three times her height. The doorframe itself slanted inward, giving the huge doors an appearance of an two inward right angles. The door were completely black, and the corners thicker than the rest.

Just as she mentally stirred up enough courage to prepare for the sights and horrors those might have hidden behind them, the door separated with a loud cold hiss, slowly disappearing into the walls of the fortress. She nearly jumped off the steps, it unsettled her so much. Slowly, slowly she walked inside, her eyes widening with awe at the sight before her.

 _Magnificent._

The opening room was huge, making her feel tiny compared to it. The floor were made of an copper marble, an large Imperialist emblem engraved inside it. The walls were an smooth, polished gray, red accents and lights in the room. Two giant staircases led up to an higher level, where several storm troopers stood. Between them was another large pyramid, with a strange, distorted...thing...encased in it. Two Imperial banners on either side of it, both an rich red. Two large hallways led to darkness on either side of the staircase.

There were several troopers everywhere, resting in the different levels above in layers above her, and looking around, she noticed them everywhere.

She slowly walked forward, her eyes looking up, and, just as she'd imagined, she could see the top, far above. An unwilling smile, completely out of awe parted her lips as she slowly turned, still walking, her gaze to the ceiling. A tiny, soft breath escaped her, intensely accurate to her feeling at the moment, very similar to the feeling when she entered that room in the opera.

She was inside Vader's house. Inside. And although it seemed more like an Imperial base than a home, something about it was...awe-inspiring. It felt like an fortress, those walls of obsidian keeping danger out, the pulsing red trails that made it seem almost like an living creature. It was...for some odd, strange reason, something about it fascinated her.

Looking at the smooth, polished floor made her want to take off her shoes and run over it, to dance on it and feel the cools stone under her toes.

She was brought out of her fantasy, however, by the four stormtroopers marching to her, and it didn't escape her notice that they were all carrying heavy military blasters in their hands. They stood in front of her, effectively blocking her from exploring any further. "Senator Amidala."

Padmé found it surprising that they immediately knew who she was, although she probably shouldn't, the kriffing front gates knew her name.

"Do you have business here, Ma'am?"

Padmé quickly decided to simply tell the truth. "I do. Not official business with Lord Vader, of course. But what I am doing is my business, so yes, I have business here. I wished to see the inside of the structure." She waved her hand around, motioning to the room.

The troopers glanced at each other, making it apparent that people didn't usually just stop by to snoop in Vader's private affairs. "Have you been cleared by Lord Vader to enter the premises?"

She merely smiled. "The gate allowed me in."

The first trooper gestured at his companions. "Forgive us for the inconvenience Ma'am, but you'll have to come with us."

Padmé was about to question, but hesitated. She was on Vader's turf now, and if she resisted, there was no way for her escape. They formed a box around her, preventing her from any chances of resistance. Walking, they led down one of the halls.

The blackness in the inside of the pyramid was a stark contrast to the open, hollow center. The outlines and highlights of troopers were bathed in red lights from thin pulsing slits in the slanted ceiling.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

This building felt alive.

The cold tingles began running over her skin again as her eyes squinted, trying to adjust to the darkness. When her eyes finally adjusted, she was mesmerized by the frighteningly tantalizing allure of this monstrosity. So this was where all the real things happened. It made sense. The large open space she originally entered was huge, but it was unreasonable to assume that that was the whole building. There must be several rooms here, spanning the whole of the outer shell on the building. The place she had originally entered had been encased by all of the other rooms and dark halls.

They passed several doors, each with two troopers on either side of the door. With every passing she wanted to see more. What were behind those doors? Would she live to see? When they passed an long open hallway, she was elated to find her theory correct. There was light at the end of the tunnel. That was how they were able to get above her and have an view of all below. This place was built almost like an ant hill, tunnels all around the outer layer, and the large open sanctuary in the center.

Curious.

Her mind drifted back to the tall statue in the middle of the twin staircases. What was it? She couldn't quite be sure, but it seemed almost like she was seeing and person in there, like an casket of an unfortunate petrified creature caught in his bedsheets. And she almost sure she had seen an arm.

Curious, indeed.

Her eyes turned to an thick red stripe, on the side of the hall. An window, although tinted red. She looked hard but all she saw was blackness. It was night.

Padmé was interrupted by her examination by the troopers accompanying her, all of them stopping in front of an door. They entered, and Padmé's eyes stung slightly, trying to readjust. The halls here were gray but bright, with doors every few feet. They stepped forwards, opening the last one for her. She was greeted by an empty fair sized room, save and bench, almost like an chaise lounge. She immediately thought of her own red one, and for a moment considered how that would add color to the room.

She turned back to the trooper, question in her expression.

"We'll need you to remain here a few minutes Senator Amidala. We apologize for the inconvenience."

Only two minutes after she had sat, the doors reopened, revealing an young male Imperial, whose tanned skin, dark brown eyes and nearly midnight black hair seemed familiar. She quickly made the connection with the Imperial who had been doing an interview on the holonews. "Senator Amidala, you will be pleased to hear that you have been granted access to Vader's Mansion. However, certain rooms will be closed to you."

Oh, what was his name? Admiral Panit? Padnit? Paddit. That was it. "Thank you, Admiral."

He smiled politely, not an hint of malice or hostility in his face. She noticed he seemed more at home here than he had before on the holonews. "It was of no consequence, I assure you."

She didn't move, although her stepped aside to let her pass. "Admiral, is Lord Vader present here?"

"Lord Vader is currently off-planet. Did you wish to arrange an meeting with him?"

Padmé shook head. Meeting Vader was not exactly the largest priority she had. When he led her out of the corridor into the main hall and was about to depart, she remembered something. "Admiral?"

He turned back to her, his dark eyes glinting in the red light.

"What is that statue in the front room? The big one, between the staircases?"

He was quiet a moment, before he finally spoke. "It is a tomb, Milady."

He then bowed and left.

* * *

Two hours.

It had been two hours since she entered, and she had yet be bored.

Padmé had been lost so many times, she couldn't remember where she was supposed to be in the first place. It wasn't that bad, all she had to do was get to the main halls, and keep walking. She would soon find another with light down at the end. One she made it there, she was back at the center. And she had yet to enter the same level and opening yet.

When she reached the very back of the pyramid, in the lowest level, she found another door, unlike all the others it was large, the only door on the entire floor. She went to it, immediately seeking to enter it. The troopers guarding it stopped her, however. "You can't go in there, Ma'am"

Padmé gave them an slightly indignant look. "Why not? I was cleared to enter anywhere I wanted."

The trooper was adamant however, not falling for her trick. "Those doors lead directly to Lord Vader's private quarters, Ma'am."

Ooh.

Padmé folded her arms over her chest. "Is Lord Vader home?"

The trooper shook his head. "No, Ma'am."

Padmé raised an eyebrow defiantly. "Well, then. You know what to do. If he's not here, than there should be no problem. So. Let's get an move on gentlemen, pronto."

The trooper just stared at her a moment before he sighed, looking at his companion and shrugging. Padmé was sure she that she heard the exasperated mumble of, 'Of course, dear, future empress.' But brushed it off. The doors parted, opening into and rectangular room with three doors in it. She turned back to the troopers, the question evident. "You may enter the center room only. The rest are closed, even to you Ma'am."

Her gaze went to the floor, noticing an flashing in the dim light in front of the first door. Tiny glass shards scattered on the floor peeked out from the bottom of it, the rest disappearing into the room. The middle door held no real significance, but seeping out from the last door was an deep red substance.

Blood.

The doors closed behind her, leaving her alone in the room. She looked around. The room was dimly lit by little wall lamps on either side of the doors. Made of an orangish-red the lamps were shaped like a quarter moon, an glowing white ball sitting precariously in the center.

She couldn't help herself, she had to touch at least one of them. The magnetized ball came out with little resistance, still glowing like an lit pearl. It felt odd in her palm, thrumming with energy of it's own.

Padmé gently, carefully set it back. Her gaze moving from it to the door, the center door.

To do, or not to do.

Ah, but that is the question.

One that she answers with ease.

Thin red lines traced down to the middle, where they joined in and intricate circle. Placing her hand directly on the door center, she jumped when it shifted, the lines rearranging and untangling themselves. Three was a faint thunk, before the door split, hissing lowly.

She stared in, her eyes searching the black abyss that the room faded to.

To do, or not to do.

Ah, but that is the question.

One that she now hesitates to answer.

A red band, several inches wide, glowed to life around the room, illuminating the room a little. She entered, walking into the middle of the room. It wasn't very large, just slightly smaller than her bedroom in the penthouse. The walls were either a dark maroon or black, she wasn't sure. What was on the ceiling, though, was what caught her fascination.

Domed, at least she thought it was domed, it was the color of night. But that wasn't what caught her attention. The whole galaxy was projected onto the midnight blue, with Coruscant appropriately centered. Even with her limited knowledge of the stars, she found the Chommel sector, and in it, the Naboo system. Unconsciously, she moved her hand to touch it, only to remember that it was far above her reach.

Yet, as if it could read her movements, the ceiling changed to a map of the Naboo system. When she tried to do it again and zoom in on her home planet, the whole thing went blank, changing to the midnight blue of space.

Bored, her eyes flicked to the bed. Something about the discovery that Vader had an bed was...off putting. She supposed that even he had to sleep some time, but even while staring at the huge black-sheeted mattress, she found it hard to believe he slept here. Vader didn't sleep, or take naps or any such thing. It didn't seen remotely possible.

Padmé's curious discoveries were cut short, when she head an soft hum behind her. She paid it no mind at first until it spoke.

"Well, well, what have we here, Amidala?"

She jumped, whiling around to see Palpatine's life-sized holographic image in front of her, an malicious smile on his wrinkled, decrepit face. "Emperor Palpatine." She breathed out in horror. Not because she was scared of him, but instead where he found her.

 _How did he even get in here? I never accepted an incoming call._

Palpatine smiled victoriously, answering the question he knew was running through her head. "I come and go as I please, Senator. You have absolutely no say in the matter."

Padmé blinked.

"Now, Amidala, care to explain your presence here? I go to find my apprentice, and I find you in his bedroom. Imagine what your senate friends would think if they found that you, one who so strongly apposes the Empire was found in Lord Vader's bedroom."

Padmé quickly shot down the Emperor's line of thought, despising what he was alluding to. "I can assure you Emperor, I did not come here for Vader's sake."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Actually...I um, I broke in, you see. Vader has no idea I am here. I came to snoop in his things." She mentally slapped herself. Way to go Padmé. If Vader gets word of this..."I um...I wasn't aware that Vader was on-planet, actually."

Palpatine watched her amusedly. "He finished early as he usually does. In fact, he should be there momentarily."

"Really?" Padmé was edging towards the door. She needed to get out of here fast, before Vader came back and found her in his room. "Well that something, but um...since I've seen all I want to see, I'll just go, yeah? Oh, and could we keep this between us? I'm sure that what Vader doesn't know, can't hurt me."

Palpatine raised an eyebrow. "My dear, Vader knows everything. Who do you think allowed you to even make it past the front gates and not be eliminated on sight?"

Padmé froze. "But there is an possibility that he didn't, right?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"But you won't remind him, if he forgot?"

"I can assure you he won't. But I will not remind him if you do not wish it."

A pause, then, "Well, um. Still, I'd best be going." She made her way to the door,

"You do that."

Palpatine disconnected the call, leaning back in his chair. He steepled his fingers, an habit of his when he was thinking. His eyes narrowed minutely, quietly accessing the Senator. After a moment's deliberation, he finally acknowledged the greater power in the room. "If she is to be useful, you must find a way to tame that damnable curiosity out of her. Her courage is admirable, but her willingness to walk headfirst into such...predicaments could get her killed. That however, is fixable. I remember you used to be the same way, weren't you, Vader?"

The black figure shifted, moving from the other side of the room to in front of him, leaning back on the desk and crossing his arms. "Yes."

Palpatine snorted. "Of course you were, amongst another group on things. Arrogant, curious, proud, temperamental, rash, brash, ruthless, irresponsible, and the list could go on if I let it. Some you still are. Temperamental, in particular."

Vader smiled slightly, his lips tilting up on one side, a soft breath air escaping him. "I remember."

Palpatine cocked his head to the side. "Still, I was able to smooth out most of those significant wrinkles. If anyone is more stubborn then her, it's you. I doubt she has stronger will than you, anyways."

"We shall see, Master."

* * *

 _(Flashback)_

 _Imperial Center,_

 _Two years ago_

 _"Spit it out Admiral." Vader's sharp voice carried over to Gov. Tarkin's ears, informing him of the approaching Sith. Whenever Vader spoke in that tone, it meant business._

 _"Milord, I really don't think-"_

 _"Jāuhn." Vader interrupted impatiently, and the stopping of footsteps gave him reason to believe that Vader had switched tactics, trying to pry information out of the Adm. by breaking him with the feared faceless glare. "What is it? Or should I say, who is she?"_

 _"What makes you think it is a woman?"_

 _Silence._

 _One pair of footsteps continued, the second joining shortly. "Well..."_

 _"Well what?"_

 _Tarkin strode out to the hallway where the conversation was taking place, determined to find out what was happening. As he did Vader walked past him, his pace fast and precise. "Governor Tarkin. How nice of you to join us. Paddit was just about to tell us something, wasn't he, Admiral?"_

 _"No, he wasn't." The young man bit out, a light red tint to his face. Vader rather favored the young man, and consequently Jāuhn was forced to tell everything._

 _"Don't make me mad, Admiral. You know how I get when I get mad. You don't want that to happen."_

 _Tarkin smirked crookedly. "Oh, so it's a lady, is it?"_

 _"No. Bloody hell, why does everybody think that it's a lady!?"_

 _Vader stopped abruptly, turning to look at him slowly, a purely malicious smile curving his lips as he leaned close to Paddit's face. "Because I said so."_

 _Paddit sputtered indignantly._

 _Tarkin raised an amused eyebrow. "There are no secrets here, my friend. You are in Imperial center now, and worst of all, Vader wants to know."_

 _The Admiral graced them with an sour look, to which Vader laughed throatily, continuing his walk, and while they struggled to keep up. "What is her name?"_

 _Paddit finally gave up. "Camil."_

 _"I want to meet her."_

 _"What? No. absolutely not." Jāuhn ran ahead, blocking the Sith's path._

 _"Why not?"_

 _"She's afraid of you!"_

 _Tarkin's eyebrow must be touching his hairline now. "Who isn't?"_

 _Vader sighed, deciding not to continue. "When you are done Tarkin, I want her files brought to me immediately. Her life records, medical records, everything."_

 _Tarkin nodded briefly._

 _The door ahead of them hissed open, and they entered a private room. Vader motioned for them to sit in the provided chairs, moving behind his own and placing his hands on the back of it. "So what is the problem? You have found an pet, now pet it."_

 _"Pet!?" Paddit quickly calmed himself, pinching the bride of his nose and remembering that Vader had little tact for such matters. "The thing is-"_

 _Vader cut him off again, predictably. "Why haven't you married her then?"_

 _Tarkin leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. He had been around Vader since the man arrived. He knew how direct the Sith was._

 _Paddit stared at him, disbelief written over his face. "I've known her only almost three weeks!"_

 _"And do you like her?"_

 _"Immensely, but-"_

 _"So?"_

 _"I can't just marry her, these things take time, years even. In ord-"_

 _"It only takes time if you make it, Admiral. You are one of us now. We are Imperials. If we see something we want, we take it."_

 _Jāuhn looked slightly stricken, before an thoughtful look came upon his face. "Do you really think it's possible? What if I'm wrong and it doesn't work out?"_

 _Tarkin shrugged the same time Vader did. "Sucks to be you, I suppose."_

 _Paddit sighed. "Well, if it doesn't, I most certainly will not tell either of you. Especially you." The last comment was directed at Vader._

 _Tarkin snorted. "He'd be the last one you tell and the first to know. Perks of being force-sensitive's pet."_

 _Vader slowly cocked his head to the side, an action he did when he remembered something. "Gentleman." His voice was suddenly very stern and deep. "Now that we've had our talk, don't you have somewhere to be?"_

 _As they were about to depart, Paddit stopped, turning back to the Head of Military. "Vader, by any chance-"_

 _"Spit it out."_

 _"Would you do me the great honor and be my best man?"_

 _"Not a chance."_

 _(End of Flashback)_

* * *

Seductiveness.

Dark eyeshadow and eyeliner narrowed her eyes, giving them an sultry, suggestive look, disguising the pain. Deep red, dripping with the colour of blood, her lips were coated with an shimmering red lipstick that matched her nails. Her eyelashes were thick and long, made so by careful application of mascara. Most of her rich, thick tresses had been pulled up, but the rest fell down her bare back. The color of night, her dress was sliced open in the front, laced down to right under her navel, which was adorned by an red nubian crystal. The split down the middle made it impossible for her to wear an bra, but she hardly minded. The bottom of it reached the floor, dragging behind her as she walked. The halter necked dress had an slit on the back nearly reached her butt, flashing almost all that could be seen of her pale skin.

She stood in front of the mirror, assessing herself before she went out. She knew her dress was provocative, but she preferred it that way. She was an adult, an grown woman. And even if she never was married, or found an life partner, she was an woman. And she wanted to act like it. There was just something about being admired and wanted, to be desired, something that drew her. She could shoot them all down, but the power it gave her was...insurmountable.

The holo drama said she did it as an statement. They were right.

She would defy the Empire every chance she got; she would not conform.

She would go anywhere she pleased alone; she not dependent, rather, she was independent.

She would dress as much as a woman she wanted to feel, no matter who else said otherwise.

She was Padmé Amidala, and she knew it.

Power.

Something that even she found herself craving. She was not immune to the amazing abilities such had, for good or evil. It called, speaking of wealth, fame and the ability to assure one an life of ease and comfort, lavish enough to provide every desire. In the galaxy, for some reason on the other, everyone wanted control. Learning how to temper it, now that was the key.

One that she had found, and one that almost slipped her fingers.

It was only her remembering why she did what she did that resurrected the true her, leaving her feeling ashamed for even considering it for an mere second. To some it seems small, but in truth, a few seconds is all it takes to destroy all one has worked for. Just like that, an decision can be made, instantly catapulting one into point of no return.

A few seconds was all it took for her murder to her best friend.

A quiet, high-pitched inquisitive whine shook her out of her musings. Turning, she smiled as she walked over to the hovering cradle, picking Katus up carefully. "Hey there."

His large silver eyes watched her curiously, his tiny fist in his mouth. He gasped softly, pulling his finger from his mouth and reaching for her hair. She smiled as his fingers closed around it, the amount of affection surging though her. She leaned forward, touching her forehead with his, and he placed his hands on her cheeks, a sudden happy smile on his face.

Padmé closed her eyes, just feeling the joy of holding another, tiny life in her arms. She leaned forward, kissing his tiny nose, to which he laughed. She opened her eyes, and laughed herself. Right on the tip of Katus' nose, was an shimmering, blood red spot. "You're going to be a ladies man, aren't you?"

Katus smirked, as if he knew what she was talking about. A knock on her door informed her of company. "Come in!"

Dormé stepped around the door, curtsying, before walking to her. The handmaiden sat next to her, holding her hands out for Katus. Padmé let her hold him, waiting for her to speak.

"Have you talked to your family lately, milady?"

Padmé sighed, looking down at the carpet. "No."

Dormé hummed.

"I can't talk to them. They'll want me to come home, and they'll be disappointed when I can't." She sighed again.

Dormé turned to look at her, her face expressing concern. "They'll be worried about you."

Padmé groaned, wanting to throw herself face first into bed, but remembering the span of cosmetics on her face. "I know."

Dormé hummed.

Padmé stood, ruffling Katus' soft hair before speaking. "I have to go. Watch him for me, hmm?"

Dormé laughed lightly. "Of course. I doubt he'll even notice you're gone, since we all look alike."

Padmé smiled, saying her goodbyes.

* * *

He is here.

She can feel his powerful presence before she enters, the feeling washing over her.

She places her hand on the door pad, the doors quietly opening to allow her entrance, and her breath caught at the sight before her.

Almost ethereal in his appearance, he stands with his back to her, the purple-blue lights outlining his silhouette. His form is impeccable, his arms crossed behind his back and his long legs spread out. Dark swirls surround him, curiously crawling up his figure. His body is calm, his breaths almost delayed. She notices that his hands covered with gloves as usual, silver clasps going round them. He's dressed simply, wearing an black tunic consisting of many layers, leather on the outside, and black pants, and it only makes him look more attractive.

She closed the door, walking quietly to him. He doesn't seem to notice that she is here, and if he does, he does not acknowledge her. Raising her hand, she touched his arm, unsuspecting of the oncoming attack.

In an short second, she is staring down at the floor, one of her arms twisted tightly behind her back, while another, stronger one is on the back of her neck pushing her head down in a headlock. The next she is thrown down before being grabbed again and slammed up against the wall, cool gloved fingers tight around her neck, not to hold her back, but to choke her. Her hands wrap around his wrist restraining her air passage, eyes wide as she stares into his eyes.

Gone was the mystic blue and the golden in his irises, replaced with an unhealthy yellow-red color that was oddly familiar, filled with malice and all forms of negative energy. He looked at her as though she was his mortal enemy, absolute hate etched in his face. Even with her sudden loss of breath and the intense pain originating from his fist crushing her neck that was probably forming bruises, she sees the change.

In one second, an friend had turned to an enemy, ready to kill her immediately.

But then, he stopped, his eyes becoming golden, then blue quickly as he blinked. His grip on her loosened, bringing her back to the ground, as her feet had been off the floor. "Senator?"

He swore harshly in another language under his breath, removing his hand from her neck completely and pulling her up into his arms, and carrying her to her seat. She watched him carefully, warily, while she rubbed her neck, trying to soothe the pain.

Reaction comes slow to her.

He crouched in front of her, pulling her hand away while he inspected the damage. "My apologies, Senator. I was unaware of your presence."

She swallowed, her throat dry and rough. "Why...?"

He gently massaged the injured skin on her neck, causing an odd tingling sensation to appear and sudden heat to surge though her body. "Reflexes. I was particularly reliving an...very unpleasant period in my life and you unknowingly triggered them."

Padmé frowned softly, feeling the pain start to rapidly go away. "Who are you? What is it that you do to give you such reflexes?"

He stood, walking over to the view and looking down on it, and she was sure those eyelashes touched his cheekbones. "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

She narrowed her eyes on him, her temper pricking at his cryptic response. "You don't know that. You don't know me."

He laughed darkly, turning to look at her with and unnerving glint in his eyes. "Oh yes, I do."

Padmé stared at him a long time, trying to figure him out.

"Who are you?"

His full lips curved upward slightly. "Who am I, or what is my name?"

"Both." She said immediately.

He walked past her, sitting in the other seat, leaning back and lacing his fingers together. "Your curiosity is good, you should be interested in details, even the unnecessary ones. However you should be careful not to let it lead you into danger."

Padmé stared at him indignantly. "Your name is an unnecessary detail?"

"Yes. My name does not change who I am. To you, perhaps, but to me, never. I was nameless an long time before people realized who I was." As he stared at her with those calculated and careful eyes, sharp and cunning, somehow she felt like there was an double meaning she should know behind that statement.

Padmé leaned forward, he gaze level with him, needing him to know that she is serious. "What. Is. Your. Name?"

"Skywalker."

"Hm?" Confusion entered her mind at the sudden lack of resistance, not quite processing what exactly he said.

"The name I go by."

Padmé blinked. "That's your name?"

"My last."

"And your first?"

He tilted his head to the side, an pleasant smile on his face.

Thinking of her newly discovered information, she turned back to the Opera, determined to watch it as she had missed the others. She was interrupted, however, when she felt gloved fingers wrap around her chin, pulling her to face him again, his eyes roaming over her face, and finally settling on her lips and devious smile overtook his overtook his own. The pad of his thumb traced over her lips, and she shivered when she felt that powerful, dark aura surround him. "Oh yes. You will do nicely."

Padmé held out her hand to him, standing to leave. "And our evening has come to an close. Goodnight, Skywalker."

He looked at her offered hand. "What is this?"

Padmé sighed. "Haven't you ever kissed a lady's hand? Also you owe me, anyway."

"I do, do I?"

Padmé smirked bodly, her sparkling bloody lips curving in amusement. "A kiss to make it better, remember?"

He walked towards her, backing her into the wall, his eyes going from blue to yellow, an malicious smile adorning his lips. Her heart quickened when he pressed himself against her, leaving no space between them, his body tall and hard against her smaller one. Desire hit her hard when she inhaled his scent. Heat seared though her when his hand cupped the side of her neck, his fingers brushing the back of her hair. She felt like she stopped breathing when his lips descended, not on to hers, but to her neck, his warm breath fanning over the area.

Desire.

His lips brushed her skin, so soft she wasn't quite sure if he did, but when he trailed his lips across his collarbone, dusting tendrils of fire, she knew that he had, that he was. Her fingers snaked into his soft hair, loving the feel of it in his fingers. He drew back, his face inches from hers, warming her lips with his breathing. She waited, her lips slightly parted and ready, but was instead hit by cool air, the press of his body, no longer there.

Her eyes opened, only to be greeted by an empty room.

He was gone.

One thought ran through her brain, an single thought not of her own.

Goodnight, Senator.

And that night when she got into bed, she eyes bleary and half closed, she could swear that he and Vader meshed to one, his face hidden beneath the hood as he stepped out of the darkness of her bedroom. She could swear she heard him say those words to her aloud. She could swear she caught an glint of the shiny hilt of his saber. She could swear that she felt the cool feel of gloves on her neck, and felt the light press of his lips on her forehead before sleep overcame her, and everything went black.

 **A/N: I am so happy to get Katus back in the story before he leaves again. And I am happy to get our favorite couple going. Btw, I constantly go back an edit, so if you find any errors, tell me. I'm not perfect, and sometimes my writing and editing sucks so tell me.**

 **I know you guys are probably pissed that I keep going back to the Imperials, but I really wanted to show Vader's relationship with his men. Don't worry, the Jedi and the rebels will be back soon, along with all the aliens that seem to rocket off Coruscant.**

 **God bless, Mwah.**

 **xx,**

 **Christina.**

 **P.s: Yes, that odd tingling she felt was because Vader healed her.**

 **P.P.s: No, Vader and her didn't take things any farther before. He let her go, and she watched her Opera.**

 **Fun Fact: I often cry at night because I get so lost about the meaning of life and several depressing thoughts. Like my family getting hit by a truck. (Does that count as a 'fun' fact?**

 **Word count: 5957.**


	14. XI: Guide To Walking The Skies

**A/N: Wassup. Enjoy.**

Thoughts.

Millions of them, swirled in her mind.

Questions.

Several searched for answers, the true distress the lack _of_ answers. Some couldn't even finish. So many times she tried to think a thought through but it cut off like broken strings, leaving her stuck on another dead end. There didn't even seem to be enough words for her brain to run on, enough to articulate the feelings inside her. They overlapped, going from topic to topic, then trying to remember what the original thought was. But louder than the rest, one thought screamed out, one that seemed foreign to her, not of her own.

 _Goodnight, Senator._

Why did it seem so different than her own? Why, when she thought of it in her head she heard a different voice speak it, one so dark and alluring. It didn't seem to fit in her mind, why it was so unlike her own. It wasn't as if someone was able to put the thought in her head, so _he_ must have said it.

Skywalker.

Strange, although she now knew his name, she still called him _he._

Laying nude in her bed, she pondered these thing while she stared at the ceiling, not seeing a thing. It was early morning now, and she had woken only to go to shower, dry off and fall back into bed. The sheets twisted around her, crisp and white, while she laid in the middle, one of her fingers absently playing with the curls spread out around her. The early morning light from the windows illuminated her slim figure, highlighting her curves and darkening her dips.

Katus was sound asleep, giving her time to cogitate undisturbed.

Lately she had found that she had been just taking action, but not thinking about her actions. She just did. She didn't contemplate, she didn't process, she just acted and thought no more about it, and it had become her ritual.

It was better that way, living robotically, not caring of consequences, not feeling.

It was numbing.

 _It made her numb._

Living in a haze did that to people. And it controlled every part of her.

Except _him._

There was something about him, that awoke something inside her, something dangerous and undiscovered. She wasn't quite sure where it was going with him. He did things to her, made her intrigued. Everything he said was was an double edged sword, and she always felt like she was only seeing an portion of him. There was so much missing, so much that she didn't know. She had no idea who he was, and it seemed like he knew _everything._

And somehow, although he saw the corruption, admitted to the wrong, somehow, he believed that the Empire was the best thing for the government. He struck her as a very intelligent and well-experienced young man, so how could he possibly believe that? He couldn't truly.

She didn't want to believe it.

And she resolved not to.

There had to be more.

Had to.

Why was she so adamant to prove him wrong? To prove to him to him that an constitutional monarchy was right for the galaxy?

Because she wanted him to believe it. She wanted him to believe the same things she did. To put them in this fight together. When she was with the alliance she felt strong even when they lost. They were all there, fighting together. But now, there was only her.

She had been alone to long, and now she wanted someone to be by her side, to be strong when she wasn't.

That was all.

Except, it wasn't.

There was no accounting for his behavior last night, but was there ever? Being honest, she couldn't deny that she had wanted him to kiss her. She wasn't stupid enough to be in denial. She had wanted him in that moment, there was no denying. She wanted for him to kiss her, all over her body. So many delicious dirty thoughts had flowed though her mind the moment his soft lips touched her skin. She was attracted to him, dreadfully, and she knew it. She wasn't surprised by it, many women would be. There was something about that dark and reclusive part of him that drew her, probably more than it should. She was attracted to him, but she knew far to little about him to have any more than physical attraction.

That was expected. She could handle that. There was no solution for that. All she had to do was ignore it.

Feelings were a bit more difficult.

In her world, they were messy and troublesome, and only would put strain on her compromised position with the Empire.

So, feelings were better left alone, and for now, she was content to leave feelings at bay and just exist.

Rolling out of bed, she carefully padded quietly on the soft carpet to her desk, where she retrieved her datapad, careful not to wake Katus. She sat down on the carpeted floor, still absolutely naked.

Whatever. She was home alone, no one was going to see her. Her handmaidens had left early in the morning for shopping, and even if they came home, they had seen her and dressed her so many times it wasn't even surprising. One unfortunate time they had all been stranded on a island without any clothes. Originally, it was awkward, but by now they were used to it, once having an big party in her palace room, all of them jumping around and singing in their underwear.

They had grown too close to have insecurities of inadequacy amongst themselves.

Spreading her datapads and supplies, some with legal access and some which were not as much, Padmé Amidala got to work.

It was time to find out who Skywalker was.

* * *

Three hours later, she was frustrated.

Skywalker simply didn't exist.

Everywhere she looked, no matter where she searched, he was not to be found. Even her hacked datapads that allowed her to access to even restricted files. Not exactly legal, but necessary.

 _No results found. We're sorry, but the person you're looking for does not exist._

"Bullshit!" She threw it down, not believing that it was possible.

He couldn't have lied to her. He couldn't have.

"Bullshit!" She shouted again, pissed that she wasn't getting wanted. Childish, but she didn't care. "How? How is that even possible?"

Katus whined, reminding her of his presence. She sighed softly, standing to go to him when she reconsidered, going first for her robe. She didn't want to risk one of his earliest flashbacks to be of the nice naked lady that took him in. She laughed at the thought, wrapping herself in her robe before going to pick him up. Her first flashbacks of her earliest memories were something that had struck her when she was old enough to understand them.

* * *

 _(Flashback)_

 _Twenty-one years ago_

 _Nabeirre residence, late afternoon_

 _Hazy._

 _Everything was unclear, mostly large spots, keeping her from seeing clearly. The holoscreen in front of her quietly played one of her favorite shows, but her focus was slipping. Her large eyes blinked around the cozy room, focusing on the window outside. The soft light from the evening the only thing lighting the room. An soft breeze, barely noticeable flicked her soft hair that she pulled the ribbons out of, causing her bob of brown curls to brush her cheeks. Her tiny nails flexed into the soft material of her seat, her sparkly purple nail polish chipped and only a little flake in the middle of it. Her short legs swung back and forth, her toes covered in tiny sandals. Quiet murmurs from upstairs were her family's voices, everything else still._

 _Surreal._

 _Inquisitive chocolate eyes, large and round, sparked with curiosity, and she scooted forward, inching her chubby little legs forward until they nearly touched the floor. Turning around on her stomach, her fingers gripped the seat as her dress rode up, unbeknownst to her. When she was properly situated, she stood still, fluffing her hair softly as she scratched her head._

 _She walked slowly over to the bottom of the stairs, placing her hands on the first stair, and stepping up on it before repeating the motion all the way to the top. A muffled cry from Sola's bedroom brought her attention, and she slowly walked to it, putting her hand on the old fashioned doorknobs and turning it slowly, walking inside._

 _Padmé curiously stared at her shirtless sixteen year old sister and that boy that daddy hated while they sat hugging, and...eating each others faces? But when Sola let out another soft cry, an sliver of worried confusion took root in her, causing her to frown. Was he hurting her? It looked very aggressive. She took her hand off the doorknob, walking closer to the bed. "Sissy? Awe you owkay?"_

 _Sola jumped, looking down at her in shock then relief. "Padmé! You...um...startled me, sweetie."_

 _Padmé blinked at her innocently. "He hurt you?"_

 _Sola quickly removed herself from her shocked boyfriend, coming close to her and crouching in front of her. "No, of course not." Her voice was soft an gentle, but with something else in it she couldn't even begin to understand. "Darred was just...um...hugging me, is all."_

 _Padmé frowned, pushing her plump lower lip out slightly. "Tha's not hug."_

 _The boy that daddy hated choked on a laugh._

 _Sola quickly glared at him over her shoulder. "It's a grown up hug. You'll understand when you're older."_

 _Padmé brightened immediately. "You can tweach me."_

 _The boy that daddy hated laughed harder._

 _"Ahm. Well...ah...maybe one day when you meet someone special they'll teach you, okay? But you need to go now."_

 _"Why don't you have your shirts on?"_

 _"Oh. Um. Well, I got hot so I took my shirt off."_

 _Padmé pointed at that boy. "Is Daddy know he's hewre?"_

 _Sola bit her lip anxiously. "Don't tell daddy okay? He doesn't need to know."_

 _Padmé nodded, turning to leave the room as an impish smile lit up her face. "I go tell daddy!"_

 _Sola pulled her back. "Padmé please? I tell you what, I'll let you have candy if you don't tell."_

 _Padmé considered half a second before nodding happily and Sola sighed in relief. "Okay."_

 _She walked over to Sola's bed, climbed on top on it and promptly started to fall asleep to the sounds of her sister ushering the boy daddy hates out the window._

 _(End of flashback)_

Not exactly an ideal earliest memory, but an memorable one nonetheless. She had been to young to understand then, but now, now it made sense.

Wrapped in her robe, she picked up Katus and made his bottle, which he held over her shoulder, happily sucking when she returned to her work. "How's this possible, huh Katus?"

She sat down a long time, pondering. She finally snapped her fingers as an revelation came to her. "Of course."

Katus looked back at her curiously.

He said that Skywalker was the name he went by, not his name. She frowned suddenly. What did he do that he didn't give his name? Was he an bounty hunter or something? The thought seemed ludicrous even to her. There was no way he had anything to do with something like that. It seemed beneath his notice or power.

So...what to do?

She was now at an loss. She had no idea where to find him, no idea what he did, or where he was.

There was only one option.

She had to find the person who knew where to find anyone and demand answers.

Padmé Amidala was going to find Vader.

New ships, sleek and shiny, lined up next to each other, were being painted with the rebel symbol, initiating them to the fleet. Barricades of supplies were being hustled from the economy cargo transports into the bases, replenishing not all they lost, but perhaps enough to give them enough to begin to. Rebel workers ran back in forth, making the entire place busy with action. Flashes of orange and white would appear reflective ants pouring out of and wounded anthill.

The Senator Amidala had done it again.

Senator Bail overlooked the base with the view like no other. From his standpoint high in the tower above the activity, he had the best view available.

Hope.

It was no longer an empty thought. It shone in every face, new invigoration bursting from every step.

And he was glad for it.

Foreboding.

The Dark Side was warning him. He could sense it. Something was off. For quite a while there had been a shift. Something was coming. The Dark Side was working against him know, now making the real distress elusive. The entire galaxy had stopped turning, everything so tight it almost seemed that breathing was coming to a pause.

This was it.

The galaxy had reached a head.

They had reached an crisis.

The rebels had only few resources left.

Something needed to break through.

Perhaps it was the end of the rebellion that made that had force so tense. It was like and finely tuned string, ready to break if pluck in the slightest.

And the sharp blade went back and forth across it it mercilessly, thinning it a little more everyday.

It was only a matter of time before it snapped.

The day the Rebels were gone, and everything was established, was the day Vader must die. Although truly a pity, it was essential that Vader never challenged him for the throne. If allowed anytime after the settling of the Empire, there would be an power play. There was no point in hoping that it turned out in his favor.

He had to use Vader as much as he could and discard him before he rivaled him.

It was the nature of the Sith.

A sudden wave, no, an tsunami of power surged though the room, the thick dark side visibly covering the entire dark room, swirling mostly around the hooded creature that walked silently in the darkness, kneeling before him.

Palpatine watch him impassively yet critically, nary an hint of emotion on his face. He was perfect in his act, playing the dutiful and submissive servant, never acting out of turn.

 _Liar._

"You have something you wish to say to me, Vader?"

His apprentice raised his head, and Palpatine could feel his icy gaze on him. "Yes, Master. The Rebel Alliance has garnered support from the Patora System and are moving supplies to their base as we speak. Bail Organa has arrived on the Dantoonie, and is overseeing the moving of the supplies. That Jedi-" Vader paused, spitting out the words in distaste and anger, "Obi-Wan Kenobi who has confirmed as the same Jedi who visited the Senator Amidala, left an datatchip with her. The contents of it is unknown.

Kenobi has been returned to Dantooine after visiting the battle site on Voss. The child that Senator Amidala is currently holding in guardianship has been confirmed with low Force sensitivity and is now irrelevant to us. Clovis, the bastard, has attempted to two-time the Empire, searching to come into the graces of both sides of the war for personal benefit. The Death Star is almost completed and is ready for launching and The Trade Federation has begun enquires for their payment."

Palpatine leaned back in his seat, crossing is fingers while he digested this information. "Find out what was on that data chip. For the Jedi, I want dead at any expense. Admittedly, without the Jedi, the Rebels would be obsolete. The Senator Amidala is not a real threat to us at the moment. I want Imperials set to observe Senator Chuchi. Let Clovis continue in his adultery a little longer until his use runs out. As far as battle plans, you have no doubt some idea what to do."

"And what of the Trade Federation?"

"Kill them. Kill them all."

"Yes, Master."

Palpatine had no doubt that he would, and gladly.

* * *

Her deep chocolate eyes met the nearly identical ones of her friends in disbelief. "A club?"

 _Please tell me that I heard that wrong._

"Yes!"

"Why?" She wanted to pull her hair out, already knowing that she wasn't going to win. She didn't want to go to an club. Defeat washed over her. She'd be sucked into it either way. "Do I have an choice?"

"No." Sabé said firmly, sitting her down in her chair. "You've been so stressed and busy, having all kinds of adventures without us, that you haven't taken time to relax."

Padmé rolled her eyes, her full lips pouted. "But I go to the Opera every week!"

Sabé sighed, her fingers weaving through Padmé hair, rhythmically removing the messy bun, careful not to strain of break any hairs. "And what happens there huh, milady? You sit alone in a little booth and cry about how no one ever is there with you to watch weird wiggly bubbles."

Padmé huffed indignantly, looking over at her other handmaidens who were talking animatedly about clothes that they apparently bought when she sent them out _for_ _groceries_. A small, unwilling smile appeared on her face. She would die for these girls. They were the only ones who truly knew her. And for all of their strange, eccentric behavior, she loved them like sisters. "For one, I most certainly do not cry about being alone, and two, I don't even go to watch 'wiggly bubbles.' I like the atmosphere. It's calming. And the music is nice."

 _And I'm not alone. He is there._

"Uh-huh." Sabé's rummaged through her bags, muttering under her breath about something. Padmé's eyes flicked over to her other handmaidens who were dressing Katus up in different outfits they found. Dormé skipped over to her, holding an tiny light pink fuzzy something. "Here. You're wearing this."

Padmé eyed it warily. This was starting to push her limits when it came to fashion. However, it wasn't that bad, it was just very short. She sighed annoyedly. She didn't like bars or clubs. To be honest, she'd rather do some research on Skywalker.

 _But, perhaps she could do both?_

Padmé gently took the dress from her friends hands, feeling the soft material under her fingertips. She sighed, standing and shrugging out of her robe, letting it fall to the floor and pulled the comfy dress over her head. It stopped mere inches over her butt, and if it wasn't meant for clubbing, it would have been she would consider wearing it to bed. She turned around, watching how the material moved when held her arms up, and was displeased when it hitched up to flash her behind when she bent over. "It shows my butt. The kriff am I going to do about that, huh?"

Dormé considered a moment before shrugging. "Wear pretty panties?"

She'd sooner wrestle an Gundark.

She'd sooner swim with a Dianoga.

Hell, she'd sooner kiss a karking Wookiee.

She'd kiss Darth Vader before she flashed unsacrilegious men her perfect booty.

At the moment, she didn't think that there truly was anything that could be worst than kissing Vader.

She bet he was the worst kisser in the galaxy.

Other than Palpatine, that was.

She grimaced.

 _Ew._

Padmé pulled it off, trying hard not to think of the dehumanizing act of kissing 'his royal wrinklebutt.' She set it down, not quite ready to show that much yet. Low V-necks, high splits, okay. But this was a little too far. "I always wear pretty panties. Something else, please, Dormé. And make it a bit more modest."

Modesty.

There was a time when all Padmé wore were heavy senatorial gowns, and everything, although pretty and flattering, were overly conservative. The first two years that the Empire had come into place, she hadn't really fought it like she should have. She was afraid, afraid of the way people would react, afraid of the Empire, too afraid to be free, to fight. She watched her friends fall and suffer, and one day when she was getting ready for an gala, she thought, 'to hell with the lot of them' and threw away her conservative dress, and for one in her life wore something sexy, which showed and flaunted more skin than most. More shockingly, she came alone, making sure everyone knew that this sudden change wasn't for her date, but for herself.

It was Padmé Amidala, deal with it.

From that day forward, she had never been afraid of showing skin, of blatantly calling out the Empire, of being the strong woman she was today.

She supposed she did run on power like many. She loved being confident, beautiful, and bold. She loved that feeling, that feeling of being on top of the world. But it was how she used it versus others. She found her power from herself. She realized that she had capabilities, skill, and others potential in her. All she did was bring it out. And from it, she grew sure of herself. She learned not to doubt, but trust the ability she had been gifted with. It took balance and an self-observant eye for her to train herself not to become arrogant and proud. Pride was okay, in a healthy dose, but arrogance got one nowhere.

Most got their power from undesirable sources, blasters, blackmail, money, or such. This kind of power was bad, and it led to lies, cheating, and greed. It was the best kind of power that came from oneself, the kind that you didn't have to destroy or oppress other lives to possess. She thanked the force for her friends that reached out and grabbed her from falling over the edge, the ones that told her off until she felt like a speck of dust, that popped her balloon before it got too far off he ground.

Friends.

Most of her honorable admirable friends were now dead, many killed where no one cared to even give them proper burial. The rest disappeared daily, and no where to be found.

It was those amazing people that had helped her become the woman she was today.

And she would fight for them, even when she didn't feel like fighting for herself.

But, still, she wasn't in the mood to flash a bunch of sleazy men.

Suddenly fatigued, she sat down heavily, rubbing her scalp in a tired fashion. Thin tendrils of pain from the back of her skull encased her head, the guilt bringing on a familiar migraine. This wasn't healthy, and for a while now, it had become more even frequent.

Even if she tried to forget all the others, every time she looked at her handmaidens, there was a face missing.

Kriff it, she couldn't even go to an bar without reliving the guilt.

A humorless laugh escaped her pink lips.

Sabé's head whipped around, landing directly on her. She immediately jumped up and walked over to Padmé, unexpectedly slapping her across the face. It wasn't enough to bruise, only to turn her cheek red a second, but it stung like hell. "Don't even start. We are going out, and you are not going to blame yourself for the sins on the galaxy. So snap out of it. And if I catch you with that look on your face again I will slap you fatuous, understood?"

Padmé only nodded, her brain still not processing what had just happened.

"Good. Now put this fuzzy little sweater on and let's go."

Padmé carefully pulled the dress over her head, shock numbing her.

She barely even noticed when she was hustled out of her pristine apartment to the speeder and later into the high end club.

Perhaps it did take a slap to help her realize that she was being fatuous.

She wandered aimlessly at first, not quite sure what to do. Upon their arrival, her handmaidens immediately spilt, deeming it every girl for themselves.

Padmé hadn't ever really been a fan of nightclubs. She had no idea how to act, or what to do.

To tell the truth, they were really boring.

The flashing lights flicked around the room, bathing the room in their ethereal neon lights, before the moved, running over her, and back. The pulsing music was loud in her ears, the steady thrumming running though her whole body, feeling every part of her, from her her hair that was flat ironed into a high ponytail and streamed down her back, to her toes, incased in hip boots, leaving only her fishnet tight clad thighs visible. Bodies pushed against each others, their owners swept away to another world, where they let loose, feeling the atmosphere in a way she envied. Dark mocha eyes examined the room, sweeping over everything before slowly setting on a familiar face.

Senator Clovis.

Padmé watched, nary a feeling in her as she visually perceived him kissing some woman, while his hand roamed the body of another. There was no betrayal, hurt, or jealousy. She didn't feel anything. There was no crippling numbness of mind because of him, but strangely, she only did feel numb as usual. She didn't feel anything, but slight disgust at the pathetic creature he was.

Also strangely, she didn't even think she'd miss his company.

She quickly coming to the conclusion that had Clovis even been monogamous, she could never care for him in any way.

Had that been Skywalker, perhaps it might be different.

Padmé mentally shook herself. She had resolved to leave thoughts like that alone.

Rush's head lifted, but before he could see her, she turned on her heel and left.

She could feel his eyes on her back, and she didn't even have look, she already knew when he got up and followed her. She calmly made her way to the bar, ignoring the lustful looks she felt all over her body. A man's hand on her butt, squeezing the firm flesh. Padmé didn't even think once, she spun around and knocked him out cold, a crack resonating from his jaw.

She straightened, flexing her fingers slowly, looking at the shocked faces around the room, before continuing towards the bar. She leaned forward on it, her arms crossed, and enjoyed the feeling of the way the coolness of the surface seeped into her skin.

The barista immediately came to her, and mimicked her pose while leaning over the counter. Padmé's eyes ran up and down the woman's body, taking in the tasteful tattoos running over her arms and up her neck, one visible in the shaved side of her black hair. She noticed a rose covering over her left breast, peeking out from her black tank top. Padmé cocked her head to the side, studying the makings with fascination, not caring if she seemed rude. She had always liked tattoos, but never really ever got one herself. She reached out and lightly touched the one on the woman's neck. "They're so pretty."

The girl chuckled, her deep purple eyes glinting in humor. Padmé briefly wondered if she thought that she was drunk. "Yea. You got any?"

Padmé shook her head. "Was never brave enough, really."

"You should."

Padmé just smiled.

"What do want to drink?" The girl straightened, revealing the blue glowing flimsy on her chest. Janoni.

"A Corellian Red, would be nice, thank you."

While she prepared her drink, she looked around, taking note of the twi'lek's, torgruta's, ithorian's, and several other species mingling together. Despite all, she loved the diverse culture.

Padmé quickly thanked Janoni for the drink, watching the rich red liquid swirl in the glass before taking a drink. The Senator well knew what was coming, she could feel his eyes on her.

Three, two, on-

"Padmé?" The familiar, smooth voice was laced with surprise.

He truly was a good actor. If she hadn't seen him a few minutes ago with two other women, she have thought that he truly was surprised to see her.

Padmé didn't deign to turn around, drawing her long nails around the rim of her glass. Her voice was dispassionate and uninviting when she answered. "What do you want, Clovis?"

If he noticed her shift in behavior towards him, he didn't show it. To an observant onlooker, it her attitude may seem cold because of jealousy, but truly, she reacted not concerning herself, but to the fact the he was such an playboy. "I just was searching for something to amuse myself, and when I walked in, the first thing I saw was you. It's fate, I'm sure."

 _Liar._

Padmé' eye flicked down to the bruised skin on her knuckles. No one would mind if they got a tiny bit more red, would they? "Really?" She turned in her chair finally to face him, and eyebrow raised and a void look on her face.

Rush seemed to only now notice the behavioral change in her. "Well yes...but Padmé are you okay? You seem a little..."

Padmé ignored him, staring indifferently at his charmingly concerned green eyes. "You know Rush, you were doing a lot better two seconds ago. Then, you would be merely shameful. But now, you have spoken and solidified yourself as a liar. And let me tell you something, Clovis. I _hate_ liars."

Before he could truly even process it, she decided to take action for any women that had ever been used by him. She grabbed him by the neck, pulling him forward and rammed her knee directly into his crotch. He grunted, his face screwing up in pain and before he could fall, she sent her fist flying to his face. He fell hard, his body unconscious.

Padmé smirked coldly. Well. Two men in one night. That would have even made Vader proud. She drowned her glass before throwing it at him, bouncing it off his scull. Undisturbed by the looks all around her, she strode out, not interested in being escorted off the premises by the bouncers.

She quietly walked home, in a fuzzy pink dress, fishnet tights, black hip boots, sporting bloody knuckles, and a head held high.

 **A/N: Good News: I finally have a idea where this is going. Bad News: I still have to figure out how to get there.**

 **Love you guys!**

 **xx,**

 **Christina.**

 **Word Count: 5072**


	15. XII: Riddles And Visions

**A/N: Life sucks.**

 _His eyebrows furrowed, blue eyes hard and body tense as he searches the darkening sky. The cool night air blew at his clothes, flicking at his dirty blond hair. Sand blew around him, sweeping up heavily. His fists clenched of their own accord, the muscles in his hand tightening and preparing for a fight with something he didn't even know. His irises relaxed and tightened, trying to find the source of his disturbance._

 _The wind picked up stronger, bringing up even more sand as the sky twisted in a way foreign to the Tatooine sky._

 _His breathing shortens, adrenaline beginning to pump through his body despite his lack of movement. The Force swirls strongly around him, running fast through his blood and warming his veins._

 _Pandemonium._

 _His whole body went from inanimate to jarring into action in nanoseconds. Like a tightly coiled spring being released, he fled back to his house, determined not to stay another second._

 _It was coming, and they needed to be gone before it got there._

 _He raced inside, running through down the stairs into the cooling room. His boots thudded down the ground heavily, echoing through the room as he takes them two at a time._

 _Soft brown eyes connected with his, started concern and worry shining through them. Thick brown waves were pulled simply back into a long plait, although a few renegade hairs had slipped out. Soft gentle features, and kind natural beauty was usually a soothing balm to his forever churning soul, was now different. Now, all he saw was the face of his loved one, the only one he cared for in the entire galaxy the face he had to protect._

 _He saw the face of his mother._

 _Their eyes locked, and non-physical contact passed between them as she slowly stood from her couched spot on the ground. Several questions swim through her eyes, ones that he couldn't possibly answer. For now, he has to trust himself when he has no idea why what he was doing what he is. He only hopes she trusted him as well._

 _He reaches for her, and she takes his hand._

 _An unseen bond of trust and understanding that he would care for her no matter what passed though them, and she willingly followed._

 _He had seen the future, he had seen her death, her pain, her suffering, and his own, but that didn't mean he wouldn't do his best to make sure that it didn't happen._

 _While him and his mother escaped, an Imperial fleet entered the small planet of Tatooine's atmosphere._

 _They ran, their feet hitting the sand, kicking it up under their heels, till two feet faded into one, and one ran no longer on the cool sand, but upon smooth polished floors, the feet falling lightly on the ground._

 _They landed soundlessly on the floor, navigating through the quiet and calm labyrinthine building, flashing of lights from the glass ceilings passing through them. The whole world seemed strange, almost ethereal in its appearance, timeless in it's theme._

 _These were happier times, the crippling urgency seeming to have disenfranchised. He raced past, a whirl of black, and a mirthful and mischievous smile decorating his face as he glanced over his shoulder at the familiar yell echoing though the temple._

 _"ANAKIN!"_

 _The door of the living quarters slammed shut behind him, and he leaned back on the door, breathing heavily._

 _The view centralized, going from an ever-present view to one with an embodiment. It sat, comfortably in one of the chairs in the room. Raising an eyebrow and pausing mid-sip of his drink, the datapad sitting in his hand, he waited for the sudden presence to notice his own._

 _The entire thing felt oddly familiar, as though this was a regular occurrence._

 _The black-clad Jedi apprentice moved, straightening, before he froze, his clear blue gaze snapping to him. "Obi-Wan."_

 _Obi-Wan took a sip of his tea, his gaze never straying from the apprentice._

 _"Anakin!" The murderous voice of Jedi Master Mace Windu came bellowing through the door, and the apprentice jumped slightly, moving away from it._

 _Obi-Wan's eyebrows raised higher._

 _"I swear on the the force, you little schutta, when I get my hands on you-"_

 _(Schutta: Huttese, softly translated to female dog. Go figure.)_

 _The Padawan offered a weak smile, before attempting to make a jump to his room._

 _"Anakin." The name rolled off his tongue of it own accord, laced with warning and suspicion._

 _He bolted._

 _The door slid shut fast behind him._

 _Obi-Wan stood and walked over to open the door, only to be met with a very pissed Jedi master. He sighed. "Master Windu."_

 _"Where's that little rat?"_

 _Obi-Wan sighed again. "Don't worry Master Windu. Whatever it is, I'll deal with it."_

 _The dark-skinned man huffed. "That's what you always say."_

 _Obi-Wan brushed him off, running together a bunch on unintelligible word of reassurance while ushering the furious Jedi out of the room._

 _He walked after his wayward apprentice, opened the door, and lost his identity._

 _It rained like never before on Tatooine. It pelted the ground, storming so strongly most of the village was uprooted, destroying everything it's path. Worse than that, the screams of a woman, a woman crying for her only son._

 _"Give me back my son! You can't take him from me!" Tears streamed down her face as did the rain. Her hair hung down her face, rain dripping from the slick tips. Nearly hysterical, she watches them drag him away, and her body fought those restraining her while trying to reach him. "Give me my baby! I want my son!" Despair ripped her apart, clawing at her heart and tearing it to shreds, just as surely as they would to her body._

 _Chocked sobs escaped her as she was only helpless to watch._

 _Watched as the one thing she loved lie bleeding, a hole in the side of his stomach._

 _Her mind saw one last sight before they burned her eyes out._

 _It was a pool of crimson, stained by the spilling of her only child's blood._

 _The red grew, as did his embodiment, and when he looked down he saw it covering his hands. Looking across from himself, he saw that face, the same that had run from danger, who had run through the temple like a youngling, the same that had brutally ripped from his mother, and the same that lay hurt on the ground, an large wound in his side. He had grown older, his face more mature than before, and the Padawan braid missing from his now darker and slightly longer hair._

 _A sense of relief washed over Obi-Wan, as though he had been looking for him and he didn't even know it. He was here, and he was alive, even though hurt. Glassy blue eyes, filled with pain with the brink of death in them stared at him in hope._

 _With out even thinking about it, he embraced the man he felt was like his brother. One-Wan held him tightly, thanking the force while his former apprentice's head rested on his shoulder. "It hurts, Obi-wan."_

 _"I know it does, my old padawan. I know. Help is on the way."_

 _Obi-Wan breathed deeply, feeling his friend's pain become his own, easing some of it to himself through the force-bond they shared to help carry the load. In minutes, he fell away to join his friend in the dream realm._

 _When the two connected to share the same pain, they held on to the same fraying life strand._

 _Identities faded, and in the blackness red struck, illuminating the darkened room, and was met with another. They clashed, both moving very fast, their wielders immersed in the darkness. Spinning around with fierce velocity, they clashed again in a brutally elegant form, a mix a beautiful and deadly dance._

 _The Dark Side was powerful here, surrounding the entire room as though it breathed it._

 _The two hidden fighters neared the only light the room, and their faces, although shadowed, were recognizable. The face of the Padawan, now fighting the long deceased Count Dooku._

 _It was fast, only a brief glance, but it was enough. And in than moment, time seemed to slowed down, and as his embodiment returned, Obi-Wan only felt horror as he watched him the saber sear though flesh. The tight immobility left him, and he ran forward, just as the apprentice fell to the ground._

 _The moment Obi-Wan got to him, however, he was suddenly on his back while staring at an different ceiling. He slowly sat up, feeling pain and stiffness radiating from his right arm and leg. Looking down, he saw his apprentice laying unconscious next to him, resting his head on Obi-Wan's boot. The next thing he saw was his arm, severed right above the elbow. Obi-Wan carefully tried to stand without waking him but unfortunately did anyway. The apprentice groaned softly, slowly being transferred back to the pain of reality._

 _"Anakin!"_

 _Obi-Wan barely had just helped the young man to his feet when the Senator Amidala's voice rang through, and, not caring that Obi-wan was watching, she ran straight to the apprentice, holding him in a vice hold. Her fingers stroked his hair in tenderness as she held him close. In front of everyone, she leaned back and looked him the eyes before kissing him firmly, her relief, worry and pain mixing into one in the force._

 _She held on to him, even as Obi-Wan faded away, she held him._

 _It was love that kept them connected, so much that they saw nothing else._

 _Even as everything changed, going from in that hanger to inside years later, inside the room of her lake house. Everything faded into each other, everything changing, but still the same._

 _She felt comfort in his arms._

 _He held her to her with tenderness, and over her shoulder, his eyes dripping honey yellow, and a malicious smile spread across his face as the room grew dark._

 _The Dark Side encased them, but even still, but she held on regardless, not seeing the web of manipulation and deceit weaved around her._

 _The Dark Side sang with triumph._

* * *

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi jerked up. Sweat ran down his skin, tracing the firm, bare muscles of his chest and abdomen. His ginger colored hair was wet, clinging to the skin on his forehead. His entire body trembled lightly with cold, the sweat making it worse. The uncomfortable cot stayed silent for once, not breaking the thick, tense stillness with creaking. His chest expanded and his short breaths echoed through the room.

A new wave of cold sweat him, beading on his skin.

What was that?

Every nerve on his body was met with a new definition of awareness.

He groaned softly, rubbing his face with his hands.

What was that?

He tried to make sense of it, but the more he tried, the harder it seemed. What exactly had he seen? More importantly, what did it mean? Who was-

Obi-Wan froze.

The boy's face.

He couldn't remember it.

His fingers tightened in his hair suddenly. It was natural to forget dreams. Ninety percent of dreams were forgotten before they were remembered. Those that were remembered were often hazy, or only remembered as something as significance, however what exactly tended to be an illusion. The dream-the vision he had just experienced was crystal clear. And he knew he had seen the face of the young man his vision, but all the sudden it seemed elusive to his mind.

Obi-Wan racked his brain, trying desperately to remember. He saw everything, but where the boy's face was an void.

There was no doubt the Force had showed him this for a reason. It was like he had seen alternate reality on different stages in his life, that apparently included himself and Padmé. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure if it was a vision of the future, showing him sides of what could be, or what had happened.

He hoped it was the former. If it was the latter, then things didn't bode very well for them.

He frowned.

Then there was another thing. Somehow, the Padmé was tangled in it as well.

"Anakin." He spoke softly, the name sounding right to him.

One thing for sure, the force was strong with that one.

* * *

Turmoil.

Radiated singularly around on person, it did. Calm, the rest of the base was. Something had disturbed Master Kenobi.

Felt the shift, he had.

Sensed an revelation coming, he could.

Not more than five minutes later, he was proved right.

He didn't make any move to acknowledge the presence that quietly entered the room, sitting on the floor nearby until a few minutes later. His large green eyes opened and stared at the other one waiting patiently in the room, his eyes almost disturbing in their viridescent intensity.

The Jedi Master looked troubled, his hair slightly messy, and unusual trait for him. His eyebrows were pulled together and his gaze focused on the ground. Master Yoda sighed.

"Troubled, you are."

"Yes, Master Yoda."

"Hmm."

"I believe I had a vision."

"Hmm." Master Yoda got himself more comfortable in his chair, resting his gnarled three-fingered hands on his staff as Obi-Wan began to recite his vision.

It was well over an half an hour after he finished, describing every detail to the finest points.

"...And there was times I didn't feel like I was even in my own body, and then I was. What does it mean, Master?"

Master Yoda was silent a moment, stewing over his words, listening to what the Force was telling him.

"The boy you saw, the Chosen One, he is."

* * *

Senator Padmé Amidala, former queen of Naboo, was being treated like an prisoner, and she didn't like it.

Pristine white walls encased her, the endless halls very utilitarian in its appearance. Her escorts boxed her in, and this time, there was not four, but six. Several troopers passed her, the walking in sync, making it almost sound like marching. Imperials were here as well in abundance, but that was expected in Imperial Center.

Cuffs encased her wrists, the heavy metal thankfully make in a way that was designed not to cut into her wrists. Her curious eyes wandered around the room, the deep orbs observing all the could. Her middle escorts arms were linked tightly between her own, restraining her as though she was a criminal caught snooping or stealing.

She was wearing one of her senate gowns, an deep purple one. The dress skirt split in the front revealing an lighter purple strip down the middle. The bodice had panels along the side of her breasts to the bottom of it, accentuating her figure. The top was off the shoulder, an diagonal strip covering her shoulders. Underneath the loose sleeves her tight at her forearms, light purple sleeves of the same material on her skirt. Her neck was covered by the lighter color as well, and her hair had been carefully constructed into an quaint little headdress.

If the holoreporters could see her now, she knew exactly what kind of nonsense they'd plaster everywhere. She'd look like she'd just committed murder.

Senator Padmé Amidala, former queen of Naboo, was being treated like an prisoner, and she didn't like it.

They forcefully took her into her into a small confinement cell, not unlike the one she had been pushed in before at Vader's strange, living, breathing residence.

She was only left a short time however, when she was notified that she was to be escorted to the person she was here to see. (Escorted, not dragged, meaning that she would be have a few guard walking with her, not pulling her along.)

They walked with her until they reached an long hallway not unlike the others, save that there only was two large double doors at the end, guarded by troopers. An large black Imperial emblem was in the middle of the doors, and when she approached she started hearing strange noises coming from inside, like...shouting?

The troopers with her immediately stopped, and the guards ahead shook their heads minutely. The clone on her right turned to her. "Just continue down the hall and through those doors, and you'll find him."

They went away rather hurriedly after that, leaving her confused and alone.

Slevla Mo'an always got what she wanted.

And she wanted him.

Badly.

Most would consider her promiscuous for even thinking about it, about him, but she couldn't help it. When she met him she had been terrified, but over time she had grown an liking for him.

It was his voice, low and sensual that made her mind go to mush and her body tremble. It was the way he walked, his strides long and confident. It was the way when he got angry the only thing she could think about was how the harsh tone of his voice made her want to be reprimanded. It was the way when he scolded her, she felt the need to be tamed. She dreamed about him almost every night, and thought of him almost all the time.

Hell, she loved the way he breathed.

She never showed it though. She did her best to hide it, simply doing as he wished, but alway became speechless in his presence. He dominated every situation, and all she wished was that he would do that to her.

Most women were so busy being scared of him to truly appreciate what he was.

Personally, she had no objections.

Being attracted to Darth Vader probably seemed the most absurd thing but that was her hand in life.

But it was Slevla's.

And Slevla Mo'an always got what she wanted.

Her hands held up her long black curls, and with heavy shears, she cut.

* * *

Spots invaded her vision, making the things around her swim. Pain flooded her body sharply. Her breathing organs felt slightly battered, and her eyes watered. Her body lay still and unmoving as her eyes stared at the ceiling. The air from the vents in the floor played at the baby hairs on the back of her neck. Her long lashes fluttered, the tips nearly touching her eyelids. Her lips lay slightly parted open as her asphyxiation made breathing feel almost painful.

The force of the interception between his body and hers brutally forced all the air out of her lungs. Pain radiated from the front half of her body, her small frame not really colliding with his and doing her more more harm then she could ever hope to do to him.

Padmé Amidala fell, as though her blow from the front wasn't sufficient and she required more punishment.

It was the force in which they collided that caused her pain. Still slightly dazed she looked up the gloved hand offered to her. Her eyes went up, connecting that large hand to the body of Darth Vader.

Ah.

That made sense.

He was the one who trampled her.

He reached for her, and she took his hand.

"My apologies Senator. I was not aware of your presence." His words were low and deep, and although controlled and calm, sincerity was buried in them. His tone sent a strange feeling over her, and she swayed slightly on her feet, still disoriented. Her befuddled mind only processing that that was the exact same thing he had said after he choked her.

Her eyes flicked up to the dark abyss of his hood, her eyes widening as she stepped back. "It's okay."

She could feel his eyes narrow at her and she swallowed. He turned away from her, scanning the hallway before turning to the young man she just noticed was standing at his side. Paddit. "Why is she here alone?"

The young man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. "Her escorts probably left when they heard your shouting."

Vader growled irritably under his breath. Padmé took another step back. Her heartbeat accelerated and her body grew stiff at the sound.

He was angry.

"You, make sure she doesn't get run over. A replacement will take your post." He sharply ordered the clone standing guard at the door. Vader turned back to her and she fought the impulse to step back again as her surveyed her. Obviously satisfied with what he saw, he continued past her. She watched him pass her followed by Paddit and a young Mirialan female who momentarily locked gazes with her.

Her skin was pale green, and dark purple-blue lines ran down her face. The lines under her eyes split, one disappeared over her cheek and under her hair styled into a choppy yet silky jet black bob, and the other continuing to under her chin. Thin stands of her hair from the front that seemed to have escaped her trim hung almost right to her waist over her light purple-pink jumpsuit.

Most mirialan females wore headscarves according to tradition or religion, considering it their duty of modesty, and never cut their hair. This one, however, apparently didn't participate in such practices. But then again, most Milarians had diamond shaped facial markings..

Something about her...

Padmé watched them walk past in a haze before remembering her original purpose.

"Trooper." She spoke absently to the clone standing next to her, as she watched them leave, struggling to keep up with the Sith. "Do you think it would be better to talk to him later?"

"Most likely Ma'am."

* * *

Ice.

Fire.

Void.

"Senator." Spoken at low octave, his voice was deceptively light, soft as a snakes hiss on his velvet tongue.

His tall, covered form layered with his heavy cloak took up most of the space in the doorway. Red light outlined his figure and clung to his edges lovingly. He stepped into the dark room, blocking the light out completely even as the door slid shut behind him.

Her pupils widened, the dilator muscles contracting, pulling away the iris from the enlarging pupil, while the sphincters loosened to allow the change. Her stomach tightened with anxiety and fear. Her skin prickled with self awareness at his icy presence washed over her. She felt as though rose vines had been laid across her while she was nude, bound with the lightest seraphic touch to her skin, the long, beautifully wicked thorns not hidden even by the lovely aroma and visually-pleasing petals. Her eyebrows loosened, imitating her eyes.

The only sound was her deep breathing and his own.

Light from the fireplace was the only lighting in the room that highlighted her figure, making her skin appear almost golden and her lips red. Though the black couch she sat upon was soft and comfortable her body was far from pliant.

He was almost completely covered in darkness, the fire occasionally flicking over his muscular figure, making his lips, when caught by light appear red as well.

The thought sent her to another pair of sinful lips on her skin and more goosebumps broke loose over her skin.

Unfortunately, now was not the time or place to relive her fantasy/reality.

"Lord Vader." She hated how her voice sounded so small and quiet. It was understandable. Vader was her greatest threat and meeting him personally took a lot out of her.

He shifted, turning around in the darkness and reemerging, his gloved hand curved around the stem of an wineglass while he held his own. Her eyes fell on the sparkling red liquid within the glass. It sparkled in the firelight, the deep sensuous color of it calling to her.

Padmé had always been a fan of wine. When she first tasted it, although it burned and felt harsh to her throat, the strange, mysterious allure of it had made her fall in love immediately. And now, looking at the tempting substance in the glass she felt torn. What if it was poisoned with some type of truth serum? What if it was-

Vader sighed, demonstratively taking the one he offered to her and promptly drinking it while exchanging his for hers. She watched it fascination as he drank it, her mind unable to fathom what she just saw. "You...drank it..."

It seemed as though a tiny hint of a smile came over those lips. "I am capable of consuming liquids. Most living thing are."

The question was out before she could stop it. She blamed it on her shock. "Do you eat?"

Vader was smirking by now. "Yes."

"Oh."

Her gaze went back to the glass, his glass that had been set before her. Tentatively, she leaned forward and took it, sniffing it and enjoying the smell of it in her nose, before sipping it. It had exotic taste, different from all the ones she ever tasted, although rather satisfying.

Pulling it away, she examined the liquid carefully. "What is this?

He didn't answer. When she looked up, she noticed the same secretive, indulgent smile that he always had on his when he didn't justify to answer.

Speaking of which...

"Lord Vader, if I may speak bluntly, I would ask that you could provide me the absolute assurance of your confidentiality and the help of your resources?" She met his hidden gaze evenly, using her political façade to resurrect her scattered wits.

"Unfortunately, I can not promise to tell you everything you seek, but you have my utmost assurance that you have no reason to worry for the fidelity of my mouth. I'm not prone to gossip."

Padmé nodded, considering his words good enough and was silent a moment. "I have questions about someone who knows you, and I want answers."

He hummed softly.

"Who is Skywalker?'

Suddenly, the lack of attention she didn't even notice was directed on her tenfold. "Why?"

"Because I want to know." Was it not obvious?

"Why?"

"What species is he?"

"Human."

"Impossible."

"Oh?"

"His eyes changed colored before."

"The Force works in mysterious ways."

Padmé narrowed her eyes. "Planet of origin?"

"Tatooine."

"His job?"

Vader was silent a moment. "He has dealings with the Empire."

"What kind?"

Vader didn't deign to answer.

"Siblings?"

"None."

"Family?"

"Dead." Vader shifted, crossing his arms over his chest, an action the made the muscles of his arms flex under his shirt.

"Extended Relatives?"

"Unknown."

"Hm." Padmé paused, thinking over what she just found. Skywalker had no family, and no siblings. He was integrated enough with the Empire that he had relations with Vader. He also came from an dust ball. The part about him being human, however, seemed unbelievable. Unless all other humans had the ability to change their eye color and had yet to discover it, then Vader was lying.

She hardly noticed when he refilled her glass and grilled him for answers, of which she got little.

Somewhere along in the conversation her glass got refilled again, and this time it started having side effects. Her words abruptly cut off. Dots swam in her vision. Her body grew relaxed and rather loose, and tiredness consumed her. Her eyes grew heavy, and when she looked up, she noticed Vader looking at her peculiarly, his head cocked to side. He leaned forward, his gloved fingers curving under her chin, making her look him the eyes.

Padmé tensed under his touch, trying to resist sinking down into the couch. Her large mocha eyes watched him carefully as she tried to guess his intentions. The alcohol must have been the reason when she stared at his lips, they looked so inviting and plump.

He stood back, rising to his full height, before looking down at her glass. "Ah..."

Vader plucked it up from where it sat, moving beyond her reach. Padmé, seeing what he meant to do, started to reach for it back. "Senator..." his tone was low and deep, signifying an warning.

Padmé narrowed her eyes at him, raising her brows in an act of defiance, her slightly tipsy ( _drunken_ ) state bringing out her defiance. He sighed, one hand disappearing into the void of his hood, muttering what she could only guess was profanity in another language. He gave her back the glass, which she accepted happily.

Vader calmly walked to the wall, his broad back to her and breathing deeply. The black wall in front of him illuminated red, growing opaque. She took the opportunity to observe his tall form, most hidden in the folds of his immense cloak, which was pulled back to reveal more of his figure, due to his arms locked behind his back. His legs were spread wide in a rather odd pose that fitted him, somehow.

His mannerisms...

"You two are almost unbelievably similar, you know?"

He didn't turn to her fully, only enough that she caught a hint of an smile on his lips, the only part of him that ever seemed to catch the sunlight. "Really?" His words were deceptively soft, laced with almost feigned surprise.

Padmé hummed, reaching down to pull her shoes off, then bringing her legs up on the couch. They were extremely similar, well, as much as she knew of Vader, but if the cryptic short answers told anything...

Unfortunately Skywalker was good (sort of), whereas Vader was...well...

Not exactly 'good.'

At least, as far as she knew.

"Call us the same person from different sides."

She turned back to him, watching him carefully. Where did he come from? Where was his parents? His siblings? Did he even have any? Was someon-something like Vader capable of having an family? If he did, she would pair him as Skywalker's horrendously ugly twin, set on a path with two different fates. "Vader?"

"Hm?"

"Do you have any family?"

"No."

"Where did you come from then?" She challenged, her voice becoming almost annoyed. Kriff one word answers.

"Hell."

"Hell?"

"Goodnight Senator."

"Wha-"

Everything went black as sleep consumed her.

* * *

Tempting.

He stood before the window with his back too her, the red tint of the glass and the rusty color of the sunset playing with the corners of his dark silhouette. He raised his hand, bringing his wineglass to his lips, the liquid sparkling and rich in it's hue. She could envision his sinful mouth vividly, his long, deep breathing music to her ears. He didn't move, and neither did she.

Her gaze moved to the woman she recognized as Senator Amidala, laid asleep on the collocated seats. She should know, she had stalked her nearly two weeks straight. Her mind naturally went into the automatically went to comparison.

It was an harmless part of fundamental female nature. Threat or family, friend or foe, it was one of the first thing females noticed. Immediately one took in the clothes and style, dully comparing it to their own, body shape, hair style, facial features, and voice tone, and several other things, occasionally their hunky male accessory. Even in some cases when it incited jealousy, and foolish feeling but easily attained in the female species who were generally more self-conscious and quick to feel snoop out and inadequacies and cause for insecurity, thus the male companion who was supposed to reassure them. Sometimes jealousy was placed a bit of resentment on a tiny level, often mentally pushed aside as fatuous but still remained, even into close friendship. There was alway that tiny voice of insecurity that said, 'I wish I was that put together', or resentment, 'why does she always have to look so good?' Force forbid the woman was some form of competition.

Ah, females.

For men, it was easy. They were content to believe that women over-thought most situations, and left such matters alone until it came to the woman. The possessive side then came in full force. Consuming, blind rage erupted when she was touched, hit on, and in some cases mentioned. Jealousy, and in the case that the aforementioned woman had feeling for someone else, insecurities kicked in. Men considered themselves immune to such feelings, but in all truth, you simply needed a different prod, maybe a stiff one with a point on the end.

Ah, males.

For Slevla, it was no different. She quickly assessed the woman, breaking down the essentials, as most of observance had been done at and distance. The nubian Senator was petite, rather slim, with a slightly smaller frame than her own more generously endowed figure. Her eyes were shut in slumber, but her eyelashes were pretty long, but then again so were her own.

She had pronounced cheekbones, unlike Slevla, who face was rather round but still very pretty. She found that she had thicker lips than the senator, but the senators reddish lips were still full and attractive on her face. Her thick, rich chocolate tresses had been braided neatly in what guess was an nubian style, the ends cuffed in almost like thin poles which had been closed at the bottom, whereas Slevla' raven feather smooth hair was freshly cut in a shor bob. She wore an one-sided burgundy dress that had a split one the side the top, attached by sheer material that hinted on a lack on underwear, while she still wore the same jumpsuit from earlier.

"Mo'an."

She immediately tightened her stance, raising her chin higher. "Milord."

"It appears that the Senator has fallen asleep during our conversation. Be so kind as to take her home, will you?" His voice was calm, achingly calm, watching the last rays of the sun slip past the horizon, similar to how he did every evening.

Slight annoyance tinged her mood. She was an Imperial Spy, not a escort, but overlooked it for him. "Of course, Milord."

"Be careful with her. It is imperative she arrives without a scratch. I need her untouched. Then, and only then will she be inexcusable."

She turned her side a little, a questioning look on her face. "Milord?"

"Not a scratch, understand?" Unusual of him to take such an interest.

"Yes, milord."

"Good."

She turned to leave, when he spoke again. "Slevla?"

The way he said her name left her feeling almost weak. "Yes?"

"You will wear your hair like that from now on."

Happiness burst through her at his words, tingeing her cheeks a faint purple. He'd noticed. "Yes, sir."

When she finally got the Senator home, (because although petite, Slevla was more athletic and flexible than muscular) and safely in her bed, she stared at the unconscious woman with silent malice.

 _"I don't know of what importance you are to him, but you can guarantee that you just hand-wrote your name in my black book."_

 **A/N: So, what do you think of Slevla, huh? Btw, you don't really have to worry, she'll be taken care of. It took me so long to work out Yoda's scene because I had rewrite every sentence backwards. Also, some of you may have noticed that I did some touch up on my chapters and fixed the names (thank god). I apologize for that minuscule fact that at the scene of Obi-Wan'd dream everyone seemed to be 'he.' Cringes.**

 **I love you guys so much, and can't wait to read your feedback for this chapter.**

 **xx,**

 **Christina.**

 **Fun Fact: I have a list of super long and complicated words I found in other stories to use to make myself sound educated, like: Equilibrium, Pulchritudinous, Aphrodisiac (a favorite of mine), Convalesce, Atavistic, Asphyxiation (which I got to use in this chapter, yay!), Magnanimous, and Discombobulated.**

 **I am so WEIRD.**

 **Word count: 6000 straight! Whoo! Oh. Now 6007. Dang itt...**


	16. XIII:Wounds And Trip Invitations

**A/N: Hi. Miss me?**

Confusion.

Dark brown, almost black eyes watched his commander quietly, belying an underlying befuddlement, the long brown-black eyelashes, making his eyes appear even more narrowed in concentration. His rather tan skin appeared almost pale in the white, plain and almost harsh lighting. His naturally quirked lips of instead of pinching as most when they were thinking, assumed an pursed look. His eyebrows, which thickened towards the end before slimming again, were drawn together thoughtfully.

There were few thing that left Jāuhn completely confused, especially when it came to Va - scratch that, he was always confused when it came to Vader. There was always something that the Sith was up to he had no clue about. Most of his intentions had been questionable, although like every good Imperial, he never questioned.

Not until lately, when he and Vader became 'friends.'

Now he was confused. He hadn't a clue what the Sith was on about. He knew that the Senator Amidala was his mission, and like every other he handled it with care, but this time it seemed almost like Vader was taking a more...personal interest in it. It didn't make sense. What interest would he have in a woman who...

No.

It couldn't be.

Every muscle in face loosened, just as other came into play, widening his eyes and pulling up his eyebrows.

It wasn't possible that Vader _liked_ the rebel, was it? He wasn't sure what exact thoughts went through Vader's head, but he doubted that they were at all romantic. The Sith had an overviewing perspective on the events in life, rather than feeling, he watched how others felt and place carefully timed moves based on his knowledge of human reactions to trigger them into what he wanted. Instead of seeing what he was doing in battle, he had a map in his mind, and precise game pieces. He contemplated all in a rather detached view, and prodded around to gain as much information as he could without revealing anything about himself.

The Sith was so observant, Jāuhn wasn't sure he ever took time to live in his own body and feel.

So that was out of the question...right?

Unless it was something inexplicably more simple, like the factor of lust, for example. As far as Jāuhn was concerned, Vader was an human and was therefore entitled to such urges, but that seemed a bit too...human.

Impossible.

It had to be something else going on. Or at least, that had to only be a side motive.

"...I want ten trained men surrounding her at all times as bodyguards. Out of view, but there."

"But surely not Milord." Jāuhn spoke up, causing the Sith to look at him slowly in warning which he ignored. "Ten of of our most skilled men to protect a rebel?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Couldn't the man just explain like normal people did?

Vader sighed irritably, not appreciating being questioned. "If anything at all ever happens to her between now and _then,_ she will immediately brand us as responsible. I want to eliminate that. Any attempt on her life, or health will be thought as an attack from us. By placing her under our care, she is left an untouched virgin for the picking, left without an excuse or insult."

Jāuhn furrowed his brows again. "Virgin?"

"Virgin; noun, definition three: a person who is naive, innocent or inexperienced, the exact kind of person us to take advantage of. Thankfully the woman isn't unintelligent, nor completely without experience, excluding what I have in mind for her. That will take training, but given her quickness to grasp and understand things added her cunning, it won't take much." His tone was rather matter of fact, repeating the analysis that reflected his perception of the situation the way he saw it: in a an overhead view.

"But why?" Jāuhn ignored the slightly panicked looks from the other Imperials that lined the long table, at which he sat at the end and Vader at the head. "What do we want from an rebel? She has no significant information that is necessary to us, so we could easily eliminate her and have done with it."

The loud slam of Vader's fist into the table made them all jump, echoing the the room in a deadly tremor. "My Master," his tone was an low controlled warning, warning him away from any more questions. "Has given me Senator Amidala as my own to do with as I see fit. I can either kill her, or manipulate her to my will. She is an very sharp and beautiful woman, and will be very helpful to me. For now, I need her untouched. Is that clear?"

They all nodded.

"Good." Vader breathed, ice and fire mixing into one word. "Now that we're done, get out."

* * *

"Mo'an." His voice was sharp and quick, carrying that brisk efficiency of a an Imperial. Nice.

"Paddit." She answered the same, in a rather dry, almost, but not quite uninterested tone. Paddit had never really liked her. She supposed she freaked him out in some kind of way. At one time, she had fancied herself liking him, unrequited of course, which dimmed after she found he was married. She had even considered taking it up against his wife, but in a matter of minutes after meeting her Slevla decided that it would be better for her own health to not even consider it. Besides, she had a bigger fish to catch.

Apparently the observant man had noticed her attraction to the Sith. Perhaps that was what made her so...unusual to Paddit.

That was rather expected.

"Anything interesting happened while I was away?" She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms under her chest, her black hair taking on a smooth sheen from the lighting as she cocked her head to the side.

He slowly took a sip of his caffa. "Vader assigned ten bodyguards to the Senator Amidala."

The mere name of the woman caused a barrage of unpleasant feelings to ignite inside her. She ruthlessly shoved it down. "Why?"

He mimicked her pose, an ponderous look on his handsome face. "Apparently, Palpatine has given the Senator to him as a gift. He can either kill her, or make her work for him, and he's chosen the latter."

Her face clouded, her face going dark. "He's found a new pet project."

Jāuhn watched her rapidly growing temper express itself on her face. "I guess so."

Pain originated from her palm where her long, pointed nails pierced into the soft flesh. The slim muscles under her slick black jumpsuit tensed. Her eyes narrowed on the floor.

He was going to replace her. SNow, after she obeyed his every will and command, given her life to his cause, he had found someone else, someone prettier, someone better, someone who he would train to be perfect, just as he had done to her. She knew how Vader's mind worked. Female had an appeal and were small enough and of the flexibility to help in many situations. By training a young, desirable female, he could plan an attack from an completely different angle. And now, he had found another apprentice.

Was she not good enough for him? Pretty enough? Efficient enough? Intelligent enough? She would bend and break her body just to become what he wanted. Name it and she would mould herself to it. What did the Senator have that she didn't? Was it because Amidala was human and she wasn't? It had never even been thought of as an inadequacy to her until this moment. But that couldn't possibly be, Vader had taken her despite the Non-Alien rules of the empire, and yet, now she considered it.

She was quick.

She was decisive.

She was as cold as the frigid air of Hoth during an blizzard and burned hotter than the lava of Mustafar.

 _She was just like him._

And yet, she wasn't enough.

 _He's replacing you._

 _He doesn't need you._

 _He doesn't want you._

 _He's found someone better._

 _I will kill her for it._

* * *

 _(60 days later, according to StarWars time calendar (see chapter VIII) = about 1 1/2 months)_

 _500 Republica,_

 _Coruscant_

Contemplating aspects about others was one of Senator Padmé Amidala's favorite pastimes.

But today, she contemplated herself, or rather, her life.

What was she really?

She was numb. She didn't really feel like she knew she should, yet, at the same time, she did. Her stubborn fiery drive was put away for when she needed it. It became clear when she was speaking in the battle arena they now called the senate debate room. Her voice became passionate and strengthened by the brutal honesty that she saw. When she remembered, she remembered feeling, she remembered tears, happiness, desolation and triumph, victory and devastation. The happy times were rare and often so short they were forgotten. The sadness, the pain, the guilt, the defeat, was what crashed back onto her. Nightmares often brought on such reactions, in much larger scales.

She was an odd and complex creature with many sides, to be sure.

 _He_ even more so.

She never forgot the way they first met, his strange non-answers to her questions, the way he had pricked her temper in the most insensitive way, his laugh, his smile, so dark and captivating, and his presence. She found that she noticed tiny details about him, in the physical way. She was struck by his eyes, and ever changing maelstrom. When he smiled, his eyes became light blue, clearer than the sky, and deeper than the ocean. When his attitude became dark, or very serious, his eyes became golden, becoming almost frightening in their intensity. His voice enchanted her, not insanely deep, rather, soft and low. He had this habit of randomly disappearing in a way that made her wonder if any of their encounters were even real.

And force, those lips.

The more complex side of him, however, was his character. He had several variations about himself, such an odd way of behaving. He was manipulative, playing everything he could so easily, one didn't notice it until it was over. He was intelligent. She saw the cunning in his sharp eyes, the experience won from an warrior. In fact, that's what he reminded her of.

An warrior, hardened by his experience until he became wary and careful of everything. He was always guarded and alert, as if he constantly expected attack. He moved as soundlessly and smooth as a cat, and yet, she had begun to pick up on his presence. There was something about it that hummed with power, unfathomable power, and ice. She never saw him, but the moment she felt and when she looked back, he was there. He also had this rather unnatural way way of sensing what she was thinking, without her saying anything. There was no explanation besides something big had happened to him, something that had changed him.

Of course, she never forgot the way he attacked her that way, or rather unleashed his fury at his inner demons on her accidentally. He had had her in a position to kill her in a matter of seconds, and from the look on his face, she knew in that moment of his lack of recognition, he could have killed her, he would have killed her, gladly. Skywalker was a skilled fighter, no doubt.

It was something considerable, however, in her reaction to him. He was an trigger point for her emotions, that usually sat locked away in the back of her mind. The way he riled her up the first time she saw him...he must have known what he did to her. And he did _many_ things _._

What were they really? Friends? Acquaintances?

More importantly, what did he want from her? He had randomly popped into her life, not once telling her much of anything about himself. Did he want friendship or something more? It could very well be that he was an smooth talking rake that only wanted her body. He seemed to have no problem with being in her personal space.

So, truly, it was her choice. Did she want him? Yes. What was there to lose? There was always the scenario that after he got what he wanted he would leave, but then, she would have too, so there was nothing more than a mutually beneficial act of using each other. Of course, he could stay. She never really considered the possibility of having a lover... _and she was getting ahead of herself_.

The best option for now was to simply sit back and see were it goes, but far be it from her to incite anything.

Contemplating aspects about others was one of Senator Padmé Amidala's favorite pastimes.

But today, she contemplated herself, or rather, her life.

 _What was she, really_?

* * *

 _He is here._

Gone was the soft serenade and pretty purple colors splayed across the ceiling. No longer the music was rapturous, whisking you away to a land of light and love, but now, it had become passionate, whispering sensual melodies of darkness and lust, seducing ones mind, body, and soul. The beautiful colors that seemed stolen from the spun skies of Dantooine had left, fading into deep red, the color of an twi'lek's silk dress and the hue of blood. The deep colors of burgundy prize wine of Alderaan. Sweet words of romance was lost, disappearing, changing, from heart's song to heart's forbidden desires. Heartwarming themes were abandoned, aphrodisiac in it's stead. Fire burned slowly, silently, growing sweet yellow before bits or red framed the tips of the burning circles.

She feels him. He wasn't here before, she knows, and for a while she believed he wasn't coming. But somehow, without turning around, she knows he entered the room. Her scalp tingles, that _feeling_ washing over like the warm crystal water from the waterfalls of Naboo. She doesn't move, her body ceasing to breathe, ignoring the icy tingles of the cold wall creeping onto her bare skin. Under heavily endowed lashes, her dark eyes lowered slowly, looked down at the floor and and to the side, where she knows he is.

She doesn't sit in the chairs like she usually does, no, she sits against the wall, where she has a perfect view of the seats in front of her, the glassed in window in front of it, the lights silhouetting their empty seats and making them appear black against a deep red backdrop. The lights splayed across the smooth gray durasteel ceiling above as if done by and master artist, shifting form like smoke. The doors of the room are set back, away from the wall at which she sat, almost separated from the room.

Soundless.

His boots step into her line of vision, and she watches them. Not a single squeak of the flexible leather, not a hint of an thud on the floor from his steps, the long black cloak brushing on the smooth floor behind him ominously, the greatest threat in the lack _of sound._ The smallest of creatures could never hope to generate the level of negative that surrounded him.

And like that, she knew.

Her suspicions were confirmed.

Skywalker was an _killer._

A killer in every sense of the word. His moves were not pertaining to an ordinary human, rather, a trained and precise hunter. This man was like an panther, whispering soft words of preliminary threats as soft as a snake's hiss, slipping silently into the lairs of his enemies and slowly squeezing them to death, stealing the light from their eyes, and slithering back out, leaving no one the wiser for it.

Should it somehow ever come, the view she had now of his boots was one she hoped she never saw in a moment of trying to escape him.

They came right in front of her, but she didn't lift her eyes an inch, waiting for him to make his move. He bends down slowly, crouching in front of her, the sound of his thick robes rustling against each other so quiet she never would have heard it but by proximity. Her eyes landed to his gloved hand, and it suddenly had a new meaning for her.

 _Gone was the mystic blue and the golden in his irises, replaced with an unhealthy yellow-red color, filled with malice and all forms of negative energy. He looked at her as though she was his mortal enemy, absolute hate etched in his face. Even with her sudden loss of breath and the intense pain originating from his fist crushing her neck that was probably forming bruises, she sees the change._

 _In one second, a friend had turned to an enemy._

Even then, she, she knew that others had been in that situation before and many more would, and would not be nearly as fortunate as her. Luckily, his quarrel wasn't with her, it never had been, and in that moment, when she looked in those soulless yellow-red eyes, she had never been more glad.

 _Who are you, Skywalker? What are you hiding?_

One long, gloved finger came under her chin, raising her face to meet his eyes. They were blue now, but not light and clear like usual. Instead, they were darker, almost violet. He could never hide, even if he wanted to. His eyes alway betrayed what he was feeling, although determining what each shade meant was difficult. His face was almost impassive, but at the same time it was focused, instead of seeing her, he saw through her.

"You're late."

"I know." The dark tips of his long, softly sloping eyelashes faltered, turning down softly, as his eyes lowered to her lips. She stared at him, mesmerized. His thumb just brushed against the tip of her plump bottom lip, his eyes following the movement and gold pooling in a ring around his pupils. "Forgive me?"

Her breath caught.

The soft touch of his thumb on her lower lip did more things to her than she likes to admit. She forced herself to not look at his inviting lips, so close to her own heated ones. She nodded slightly in a courtly fashion, not trusting herself to speak.

He smirked, that dark, malicious look coming over his face, as blue changed to completely gold. He backed away from her, and instead of going to sit in one of the chairs, he sat right next to her, placing his back against the wall. She watched him close his eyes, leaning his head against the wall behind him.

"Long day, Skywalker?" She raised her straight brows just slightly.

He chuckled dryly, not an inch of humor in the sound. "You have no idea."

She thought carefully, deciding not to ask because by now she had learned that he would never tell her anything. Instead, she taking up the small bag next to her, and graciously offered him some of her most cherished possessions, bumping it against his shoulder. He looked at her then, all yellow gone from his irises, then down at the bag she held.

Deftly, he plucked it out of her hand, and, upon ripping it open, pick one out before giving back to her. "I really should start weaning you off this trash."

Padmé paid him no mind, understanding that if he didn't appreciate her snacks then his opinion was untrustworthy. "Of course." She ate one of the sweet tasting gelatin-based gummy. Tilting the bag towards him, she turned back to the view before her. The bag rustled softly, and she mentally smirked. Trash indeed. "You're not one of the those health nuts, are you?"

"No. Over obsessing over any part of life is time consuming and causes premature grey hair and wrinkles. Any form of obsession or," he paused, wrinkling his nose slightly, "addiction is unhealthy. However, this is an useless an burdensome addiction. The true problem with addiction at all is if you was forced to chose between your life and these... _squishy_...things, your obsession would override sound judgment and you may even be tempted to consider it." His voice was oddly muffled.

Padmé scoffed, reaching back into the bag without looking at him. "That's not true." Her hand came up empty.

"Hmm."

Padmé threw the now empty bag to the side, glaring at him. "You seriously ate them all?"

He looked down at her, his impassive face not really hiding his amusement. The corner of his lip lifted. "Yes."

"Why?"

"You held them out to me."

"I gave it to you the first time, too."

"Your point being?"

Padmé groaned, looking away from him in a way that she hoped deterred him from more argue. After a few moments of sitting in companionable silence, she spoke again, her voice soft. "Skywalker?"

He turned to look at her, but she kept her eyes looking in the distance.

"What do you think about disguises?"

"Ah, yes. Disguises." He breathed in deeply, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. "By that you mean either physically, mentally, or emotionally?"

"All of the above."

"What about them?"

Padmé had to admit, she started this conversation for a reason. She liked arguing, or debating rather deep subjects with him. And considering how widespread this one subject was, it would make very interesting discussion.

Disguise.

"They surrounded almost every aspect of life. Every fake and misleading object, advertisement, political scheme, word or expression was merely an disguise for an more unappealing and ugly truth. Of course, there is beauty, natural beauty, that outshines all, but by now every living being had been taught and persuaded to believe in another level of empty perfection, an unattainable perfection, that wasn't truly perfection.

An common scenario is the empty boast of physical beauty, attained in the best of looking only through ridiculous amounts of beauty products, camera adjustments, filters, surgery, and since that was still not enough, when they had altered themselves that much, have to be technically edited to achieve something that was no where near real. And normal beings despair because they couldn't achieve what the ones they look up to couldn't achieve."

They searched for something empty.

Unrealistic.

Unnatural.

Unattainable.

False.

An disguise _for_ the real.

There were so many things that had been made to seem like something it wasn't it was just saddening.

"Do you realize exactly how many things are disguises? I mean, think about it, I'd guess that ninety-five percent of the things we see have no real meaning at all. An disguise is just an false outward appearance. An hoax. Every deceptive thing, such as an facade, exaggerated advertisement, the vibrant images of celebrities on the holonet, the Empire, Palpatine, that smile you trade blandly with the person you see on the street, sweet words from that guy in the club...all disguises for the truth."

Her tone was quiet, mirroring the depressing tune in her head. "Palpatine promised peace and democracy. Lies. Deception. An disguise for the truth. People smile all the time, but they're breaking inside. I know that for a fact, personally." The last sentence was almost whispered, it came out so quiet. Her eyes lowered the her brows dropping suddenly.

"You do, don't you?" He murmured distantly. He was silent a moment, his gaze thoughtful and piercing at the same time, burning into the side of her face. "Unfortunately, you speak truly. People have been mislead to believe in something that doesn't exist, and have placed screen of whimsical images around themselves to the point that that fake image becomes them. To be absolutely frank, every being in the galaxy has put up some kind of shield, or image to protect something of value to them, be it their political position, physical appearance, emotional issues, or their reputation. The level of deception expresses itself in every way and context. Most don't even try to deceive others intentionally, instead deceiving themselves. Some of it appears harmless, but there will always be side affects and benefits."

Padmé watched him carefully, not wanting to miss a hint of expression on his face. She nodded. "You know that personally too, don't you?"

He didn't respond a long time, his eyes burning in intensely. "Yes, I do. More than he average person would believe possible."

It was almost like an secret passing between them, they both shared something without saying anything. Companionable silence relapsed, leaving them to their own thoughts. It was while before either of them spoke, but it was him who broke the silence first.

"Amidala."

She turned to look at him.

"Do you know," he spoke slowly, not quite looking at her. "What exactly is the best benefit and liability of constant disguise?"

"Physically and materially?"

"Yes."

"Um...the ability to become unseen?"

He chuckled. "That is, of course one benefit, but the underlying benefit? Think about, Amidala."

Her brows furrowed, trying to understand what he was asking. She finally gave up. "What?"

The corner of his lip lifted, and she noticed a tiny beauty mark right above his lip. "The best part of constant disguise is the fact that when out of it _no one know who you are._ No one ever suspects who you are, and would never believe you if you told them."

She watched him in fascination, trying to take in every side of this amazing and complex person.

"My world, Amidala, is a very complicated and dangerous one, so secrecy in necessary. One of the greatest tactics in it is the element of surprise. Using that, one can be among those who shake at his name and talk with them as calmly as ever, them never once connecting me to the one they think that will harm them. It is, in all, very convenient."

"What-" she opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by applause. He immediately stood, drawing himself up above her, before he offered her his hand. She stared down at it, rather startled, before she smiled softly, and took his hand.

Her hand on his, he lead her to the window, looking down to watch them disintegrate the bubble from the top, creating a hole in it and brining it down, an reverse of what they did every time they put it up. She tuned to look at him, ready to say her goodbyes to see him looking not at her, but past her shoulder, down, down, to where Palpatine sat. She followed his gaze back to him, taking his moment of distraction to admire his features.

Smooth tanned skin, reddish lips, straight jaw, long eyelashes, distinct eyebrows, thick brown-dirty blond hair, yes, he was a very handsome man. He turned suddenly, catching her eyes with his, his eyes turning back blue from the gold that seeped into them. He watched her, and she watched him.

She already knows what he sees when her looks at her. Long, smooth dark brown hair, straightened into a high ponytail, large brown eyes, light skin, surprising lack of make up, dressed comfortably in a purple evening gown the exposed most of her back, a subtle slit on the side and a thin sheer shawl over that.

"I'm leaving." She didn't even think, she just said.

"Really?"

"Yes, I'm going back to Naboo."

He narrowed his eyes. "You want me to come with you."

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

He smirked. "When do we leave?"

 _This is going to be an interesting vacation._

 **A/N: In only two days, our heroine sets off! Finally. Getting this chapter out was worse than a root canal. Anyways, it's done. I don't really have much to say right now, but I hope you enjoy!**

 **Fun Fact: If I was an rapper, I'd name myself something really catchy, like...corndog. Catchy right?**

 **Word count: 4582. (Sorry.)**


	17. XIV: Prophecies And Crying Out Loud

**A/N: I was going to put in the last chapter, but then Anakin couldn't end the chapter so spectacularly, so they are leaving in two days, of which this is the first.**

Obi-Wan Kenobi was a firm believer in the prophecy of the Chosen One. If it had been mentioned a few days ago, he would have honestly said that it was an 'dead' prophecy, merely meant to establish hope. Now, after Master Yoda's words backing the vision, not to mention the Force finalizing it, it was clear to him.

The pieces of puzzle had come together, and so, the hunt began.

Dangerous.

There was no other way to describe what he was about to do. The Empire had many bases, about one on every planet loyal to itself, the central base was on Coruscant, home of Palpatine and Vader, and about the most influential planet of the Galaxy. Because of it's strategic position of power in the political world. The planet was overrun with Imperialism, making it the most dangerous place for an rebel, particularly an Jedi. The Empire's eyes and ears were everywhere. The safest place for him was on a war neutral planet, or better yet, beyond the outer rim, far beyond the immediate threat of the Empire.

 _Neutral..._

 _Pacifist..._

 _Mandalore..._

 _Satine..._

He immediately shook the thoughts away from the Duchess. Right now, he had to focus on the tedious task in front of him. He had already been to Coruscant once this last month, so going again was very dangerous. No doubt that Vader had felt his presence before, and it probably put him on edge. If he returned it would be highly unlikely that he'd leave unharmed.

So why go back?

His newly acquired information concerning the Chosen One left him on a search. For the fact that simply finding someone wasn't as easy as it sounded, especially since almost everyone knew what he looked like. No one wanted to associate with an known rebel if they valued their life.

Senator Amidala, however may be another matter. She could easily acquire information about this 'Anakin.' And while she did, he could go to Tatooine to begin searching there. The problem was safely getting there and back.

The smell of grease and machinery was strong in his nose, but not entirely unpleasant. Blue-green-grey eyes quickly surveyed the array of ships parked inside the public hanger in a small settlement in Trandosia. The soft breeze flicked at his ginger hair, pulling at a few select strands and brushing it over the other neat ones. A thin pane of light reached this face across his eyes, the part of him noticeable behind the crates of suspicions contents, barrels of oil and tools under an high shelve. The dark brown cloak covered most of his light Jedi robes, the only giveaway his face, which was even more widespread amongst those greedy for an reward, and, given that this was an bounty hunter dominated planet, was detrimental.

He sat back quickly, moving behind the barrel he was crouched behind, hiding himself completely from view. Trandoshians were reptile like creatures, covered in greenish scales and equipped with sharp claws and equally sharp orangish eyes. Obi-Wan didn't know much about the species, but since they were reptilian, he suspected that they had sharp reflexes and could sense body heat. The longer he stayed here the more likely he would be hauled off to the Empire by an greedy bounty hunter.

They didn't become world-renowned criminals for nothing.

Biding his time, he carefully slipped past several ships until he came to one that was being load with several of the suspicious crates, containing what he suspected was drugs. The amount being loaded suggested that the shipments was carrying to an place where such things would be in high demand. Quietly creeping closer to the ship, he paused to eavesdrop on the conversation he coming from the two men overseeing the loading of the freighter.

"...Really think it's a good idea...risky..."

"...this shipment directly to Coruscant will save us a lot of money and make us thousands richer. Do you really want waste that because a little bit of risk?"

"...Well..."

"Get moving."

Could there be a more perfect situation? He didn't think so. All he had to do was get inside the ship, and he could get to Coruscant. Since they were hauling this much 'merchandise', it would be highly likely to assume that they had done thing like this before, thus safely sneaking into Coruscant. If he could get onto the ship undetected, he could let them do all the talking until they were on ground, then, he could leave and no one would be the wiser.

He waited until the Trandoshian left, leaving his Vodran companion to oversee the work, muttering a few words under his breath as he did so. Obi-Wan waited until he was close enough to the side of the ramp, but still out of sight. Seven feet away stood the Vodran who was restlessly moving about. The men loading the cargo came out, preparing to gather another bunch. All except one.

Obi-wan prayed he came out quickly. From were he was at the side of the ramp he was invisible, and the Vodran standing on the other side couldn't see him, but if the men came back, they would. He glanced behind him. The other side of the hanger was rather quiet, meaning that they probably wouldn't be any problem for him.

Footsteps.

He turned back straight. Footsteps came from the back door of the hanger which connected to what he supposed was some sort of building were they were getting their cargo from.

They were coming.

He looked over at the Vodran who was busy trying to light his death stick and not paying attention.

 _But what about the man inside?_

He had a twenty-ten-seventy chance. Either he could wait for them to come out and find him, or he wait for someone to discover him from behind, or he could take his chances against the one inside the ship.

He chose.

The moment the Vodran looked the other way, he slipped inside the ship, climbing up the ramp and inside. Doorways separated the freighter, cutting off the front from the back. He quickly passed through the door to find that the ship was mostly hollow, crates started around the corner. Another doorway was placed at the back. He went through it to find that the room was the same, only this one was full, save and walkway through it and another crisscrossing that. He walked to the next door, into the last room, which was also full.

The moment it slid shut behind him, he allowed himself a breath. He was safe. He judged that from their efficient design, he back room was loaded first, and left enough space for an person to walk through and unload it, then the middle, and then front, and would be unloaded in opposite order. This room had probably already been checked, so they wouldn't come back in here.

Just then, the one man that seemed to have slipped Obi-wan's memory came around the corner.

And of course, it had to be an Barabel, probably one of the crew.

"Hey!"

 _Oh, for crying out loud!_

The shuddering of the ship shook Obi-Wan out of his sleep. His eyes opened slowly, remembering where he was. His eyes lowered to the unconscious Barabel lying on the floor. The sedative that he had injected it with after knocking it unconscious seemed seemed to be working well. Carefully drawing his legs under him, he stood. Since they had apparently just left the hanger a few seconds ago, he guessed that they were only above the area that he had hidden his starfighter.

He sighed, and leaned back.

The only thing to do now was wait.

* * *

Her heart pulse slows, growing sluggish under the implications of what she has just read. The heat of her cup rests against her tender flesh, burning her slightly swollen lower lip, which had already been scalded by the hot liquid inside the mug in a homey, pleasant way. Her dark and captivating eyes stare unseeingly at the headlines on datapad in her hands. She sets down her mug slowly, unconsciously.

 _ **IS SENATOR PADMÉ AMIDALA A TRAITOR? SOURCES SAY THAT HER LOYALTY TO THE EMPIRE IS QUESTIONABLE...**_

 _Kriffing hell, how?_

Suddenly, everything comes back into focus. Her slim, elegant fingers scrolled, her eyes determined. Her eyebrows draw together slightly, as her mind races. Reaching the bottom of the page, she looked for the author of the article on the well-known and trusted news line.

 _By - Anonymous._

She sat back, her fingers tangling in the front of her long, thick curls, not quite going through it but just holding it back. Then her fingers were back on the datapad, researching the site. Her eyes scan the page.

 _Owned by - The Galactic Empire._

Red.

That was all she can see.

Then, black.

Her vision completely clouds out, rage beginning to pump through her veins and warm them. The curtain of anger and fog surrounding has her shaking. Her whole body grows tense. Her fists clenched, wanting to strangle something. The dead, numb feeling that got her through her day was forgotten under endless fury. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted to break something.

 _That bastard..._

She didn't notice she was moving until her hands grabbed onto her cloak, drawing sleek and elegant deep blue robe over her skin, covering her two piece royal nubian style outfit, heading for the door.

"Going out, Milady?"

She turned to see Dormé watching her inquisitively, Katus perched on her hip, his silver eyes wide. The child had beautiful eyes. They were almost metallic, shining as though carved shards of steel slivers had magnetized in a perfect ring, glazed with a layer of glass. The irises had been trimmed and brought together by black ink, seeping in slightly along the edges, the same color on his eyelashes. Never had Padmé Amidala seen such black lashes, so prominent and long.

He was going to be a heartbreaker when he grew older.

He stuck his thumb in his mouth, his other fist tightened on Dormé's robe which covered her silk nightgown. Judging from the way her wavy brown hair was slightly more unruly than usual, she deducted that the handmaiden must have recently woken up.

"Yes." She walked over to Katus and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Don't expect me until this afternoon. I have something I need to...take care of." As she spoke, her hand pressed on the surface of the table near the door, pulling out her blaster from underneath, and, walked out the door, her handmaiden watching after her worriedly.

* * *

Ice.

It shouldn't come in brown. Ice was an cool colour, restricted to the chilling confines of hues of white and crisp blue, but suddenly it didn't seem to matter. Her eyes defied every man made law that ice should be expressed in such colors, reminding her that although they were generally accepted, they were, in fact, man made. So many thing accepted in polite society were never meant to be, but having been made so by man, it was considered acceptable. However, this didn't quite seem to be right, but at the same time, the only way to describe it. Brown was a soft color, a warm color, a welcoming, homey, inviting, deep, mesmerizing, and soft color, but here, she had never seen a pair of brown eyes more icy. Ice lurked in the hairline cracks of glass and ice, not chocolate.

Thin bands of color ran from the pupil and back, ice crystallizing on them a sharpening them to cutting intensity. Seeing eyes that contrasted so sharply in such a unnatural way was disturbing, and yet it seemed to work perfectly.

"Um..." For a moment, she simply stared in shock, not processing anything.

"Where. Is. He?" Padmé ground out, her long, white nails digging into the smooth surface of durasteel. She was tired of playing games. If she wasn't so...nice...she would shoot him herself and sit happily in a cell her whole life, knowing that she'd done what was right, but unfortunately such would not bode well for her. More than likely she'd be run through the 'grinding machine'(Vader) before she was allowed death.

"I'll see what can do..." The words were so quiet and unsure, and frightened Padmé almost felt sorry for her. Almost. Even though she'd stormed all the way here on foot through the cold Coruscant morning she was still seeing red.

"Ahem. Well, you can go in now, if you please _..."_

Padmé walked quickly through the doors of the hall leading to Palpitine's office room. When she entered, it took her a moment to find her object of fury, but when she did, she was tempted to pull out her blaster and attack.

He stood calmly, facing the skyline, his pale blue eyes fixed on his greatest accomplishment: Imperial Center. Not as in the Imperial base, no, the planet. The heavy senatorial garments he wore covered almost all of him, leaving only his head and his pale white hands visible. The picturesque view was completely unappreciable by the disgrace of his presence. In his assumedly righteous nerve, he didn't even acknowledge her for a long time before he spoke, not taking the time to even look at her.

"Is something troubling you, Amidala?"

The thin cords of veins in her neck strained slightly, and her left eyebrow twitched and her lips pressed softy together, all signs of oncoming combustion.

"The sith's hell it is." Venomously spoken, surprisingly steady despite her near trembling state. Fangs of a snake dripped in blood, and bodies of beautiful women strangled in it's deadly coils couldn't have done a better job in painted the scene of deadly. No beautiful brutality, no sinful strangulation, or angel's death tears could compare to the quiet devastation and promises of wrath in her voice.

 **(Quick A/N: don't blame me, disillusioned melancholy feelings and vainglorious images are how I see beauty.** _ **But then again, I'm an artist..**_ **)**

Palpatine slowly turned to her, his face carefully constructed to appear blank. "And that's because?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Emperor!" She stalked quickly over to him, her eyes full of fire, supporting her hands over his desk by her fingertips. "I know you're behind this. Did you really think I wouldn't see through your little scheme?"

He raised his brows innocently while going to sit in his chair. She wanted to slap him. No, she want to do much worse, resulting in his mangled body left in a dump. "Which one?"

 _Which!?_

"Which one? Whi-" Her voice gave out, a breathless laugh of anger cutting her off. "The one were you so publicly found it fit to try to soil my reputation, you son of a hutt." On a normal day she might have censored her words slightly, but right now she was so kriffing mad she didn't care.

He shrugged carelessly. "Oh, that." He waved his hand dismissively and opened his mouth to continue but she cut him off.

"Yes, that." She seethed, her temper threatening to overtake her. "Do you even realize the damage you've done?"

"It wasn't as though it wasn't true." His eyes narrowed, anger beginning to threaten his calm demeanor.

"It wasn't true and you know it!" Years of practice saw her lying straight through her teeth. Every perfect component of honesty was there; justifiable rage, indignant offense, and slight disbelief. Every inch of her face knew exactly how to mould itself into what is should be, and a match of what she felt. How dare they say such things about her? What right did they have? Of course, the article was true. Every bit of it had hit closer to home she would like to admit, but they didn't know that, and had no right to say such. Her anger, at the very least, was real. "You have no right to publish that kind of...blasphemy without any reason or proof!"

"You claim loyalty to the Empire?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I hate the Empire, and all for which it stands." She snarled, not caring how sharp her words were. "I never claimed to be loyal to it, and I wish it dammed. That does not make a traitor or give you any right to insinuate it either. My loyalty is to Naboo and only Naboo."

He shrugged again, lacing his words with mock gravitas."It is now out of my hands, Amidala. Even if I recalled it, by now everyone's seen it."

"But...but..." She struggled, standing straight, and shoving her fingers through her thick hair that she forgot to attempt at taming. She resorted to pacing, trying to clear her mind and muttering. She went on this way a while before she stopped, snapping her fingers as she sunk into a seat. "An publicity stunt..." but what, exactly? What could she do? What was outlandish enough?

Well, if all else failed, she could marry Palpatine. Nothing could be worse than that.

"What an brilliant idea." Palpatine seemed to brighten at the thought of creating more drama.

 _What could possibly be outlandish enough, but at the same time, concrete my reputation...make it appear I have some affiliation to the Empire...anything to get stop that thought from spreading..._

"...what were you even doing in there, anyway?"

"What?"

"In my apprentice's bedroom." He looked at her suspiciously.

"I can assure you, Emperor, it has nothing to do with anything you're think-"

"Splendid. Nothing would justify you better!" Palpatine cut her off, apparently finding some more trouble to make.

Her eyes widened, suddenly afraid of what he might do. The old man was infamous for his many schemes, and she wasn't sure she needed him managing hers. "Emperor, I don't thin-"

"Don't you see, Amidala, all I have to do is leak to the press that you were found in his bedroom, and your name will be cleared. It will seem foolish to assume anything different." He seemed quite pleased with the idea.

"I hardly think that will generate the right kind of interest, and if you hadn't started this, then there wouldn't be this issue in the first place.."

Palpatine sighed again. "Well, it's done, unless..." He froze as an look of ingenious realization came over his face. It was terrifying.

"Emperor, if I may comment, I don't think..."

"Do you know about the Gala the empire is hosting in a tomorrow?"

"Yes...well, I know of it..." Now she was very nervous.

"Do you know who its in honor of?"

"No."

"Vader."

"Oh. "

"Yes."

"Is it his birthday or something?" Did Vader have a birthday? If he did, then it was most likely he had parents, and that would make him...a person, which was of course, a highly inconceivable thought.

Palpatine gave her superior look. "Vader has no care, nor interest in foolish celebrations such as birthdays. I doubt he even knows when his own is. But that is not the point. In this instance Vader will be alone, and it would seem dreadful if he arrived...alone."

It took her a long time to understand exactly what he was insinuating and slow realization set over her, just as her face grew horrified.

 _Oh, no..._

"Emperor, I appreciate your attempts to get me out of the trouble you so kindly put me in but-"

"No, no, no, it isn't any trouble. After all, it is the least I can do." He seemed to find the idea brilliant.

"To be perfectly honest, I find myself uncomfortable in Vader's company. I'm sure that there must be an better way. Besides, the publicity that would generate would not be...desirable."

"You mean to tell me that Vader has behaved ungentlemanly towards you?" His words were sharp, as were his pale blue eyes.

"Well, no...but..."

"Well, then, what's the matter?"

"But certainly, Vader is a very busy man. I couldn't disturb or inconvenience him."

Palpatine raised a brow. "Considering that the gala is in his honor, it would be considered an capital offense him to not come. You might be a source of amusement to him."

Anger, swift and hot, rose up in her, her dark eyes flashing. "I am not an jester nor an prostitute. I am a Senator, and deserve to treated as such."

"Of course, of course, to be sure." He quickly attempted to calm her. "But as I was saying, it truly is a marvelous idea."

"But I'm sure Vader wouldn't want to be bothered..."

He sighed irritably. "If it bothers you so much, then I'll comm. him."

"No, don't..."

He immediately brought up the holographic screen on the computer that was built into his desk. It could have been her eyes, but for a moment, it seemed as though it had brought a brief view of an sort of small planet.

 _Hmm._

She stood, stepping close to his desk in a attempt to stall again. "Emperor, although I-"

"Master."

Low and soft. Those were the only ways to describe his voice. The words were strong, but were so smooth. It wasn't the same kind of smooth that originated out of slick young man like Clovis, rather, it was like the words just fell from his mouth, rolling of the tip of his young like butter. His voice was like velvet, wrapping you in warmth and caressing your body. It made sense. At first, if she had to guess how Vader sounded, she would guess his voice would harsh and animalistic, but no, it was soft and quiet. The man was a silent threat, and that alone made him far more terrifying.

The soft, alluring tone of his voice didn't stop her from almost falling over. She jumped, whirling around to see him behind her, in holographic form. The only difference in the way he looked was in size. The holographic image was larger than life, making him appear only slightly larger than natural, doing nothing to help his already impressive frame. Of course, the hologram was blue, but she could tell the fabric that covered him was still black, but she caught a flash of steel. Even through the hologram, his face remained unseen, only his mouth visible. In the back of her still reeling mind, she dully wondered how it was possible for his hood to creat such an abyss, such a void of light.

 _Oh, the irony._ Carefully sidestepping the oversized Vader, she slid around the desk, hopefully away from his gaze. Apparently, he noticed, because he followed her movement briefly before he turned his attention back his superior.

That, that was what left her baffled. Palpatine had only named the Empire, but it was Vader who had built up the Empire, before it had even started. He was the one who fought the battles, gathered intel, ran the troops. As far as she knew, he was allowed free reign when it came to anything military. The only thing he lacked in was political speaking. The man was fluent and intelligent, but had very little patience and even less will for speeches. Even if he was completely in power, it seem ludicrous to think of Vader hosting a senate meeting. He would be more likely to hire someone, or better yet, destroy it completely so he would never have to even waste the time. But it still didn't make sense. Without Vader, there would be no Empire as it was today. Palpatine never even bothered to get his hands dirty, so why was he in charge?

She supposed it all related to the Force, with the sith's rule of two. When she had been back shortly on the base, at the time Obi-Wan had befriended her, he had told her many things, things about the Force, and how it all worked. Since she hadn't the ability to use it, she couldn't truly understand certain things, like how it felt to use it, and could he feel it on her fingertips, and how he could move things. Something about 'visualizing and believing it so she see it with certainty'. But she knew the basic history of it, like how it was discovered, what was the age old war between the Sith and the Jedi, what the different forms were, and what mediclorians were and that you could not, in fact, see them, and cutting his thumb open in his sleep just to see was very rude, and that, no, they were not germs that could be seen under a microscope. She also knew that if she asked him about them one more time he would lose his mind and never, ever, _ever_ , find it again.

It still left her confused, though. She had been told that when an apprentice learned all his Master had to tell, he would kill him and claim his space at the top, and when he got an apprentice the cycle would continue.

 _So..._

Vader seemed capable of pretty much running the entire galaxy himself right now so why was he still...waiting?

She never got a answer. And whatever was she nervous for? I wasn't as though he could strangle her through the comm. unit.

"Vader, the Senator was just asking for you! Apparently, since we are finally hosting the Gala in your honor, who you arrive with will be the statement of the century, as well as forever define you. Due to the Senator's long time crush, she is determined to be the one going with you. Therefore, she has humbly asked to accompany you there."

Pin drop silence.

It took a while for his words to sink in, but when they did, all thoughts completely abandoned her mind as her head turned, slowly, slowly towards Palpatine, just as Vader turned to her.

Wht. Da. Krifn. Hewl.

"N-no, I..."

"Well, Vader, what do you say?"

She whipped her head back around to Vader, her eyes wide. "Milord, I beg of you, please do not liste-"

She knew her words were hopeless the moment she saw his face. Or what could be seen of it. Slowly, very slowly his lips curved into a smile, the most cruel and merciless one she had every seen to grace his face.

 _Amusement, indeed._

He cut her rambling off mid way, her words dying on her tongue when she saw the smile. He had caught on to the game, and now he wanted to play it.

"I accept your invitation, Senator." He bowed slightly while she watched in horrified silence. The image desegregated, as did her will.

* * *

 _I accept your invitation._

Senator Padmé Amidala groaned, running her hands up and down her face. As she fell back onto her bed, not being able to enjoy the smooth, luxurious violet nubian spread covering her bed. There was a slight dip in the bed, next to her left side signified her handmaiden sitting down in shock. She had to stop herself from moving.

"Are you sure you can't just not go?"

She allowed herself to roll now, coming to a stop on her stomach, removing her hands from her face and stretching them out in front of her. She turned to look up at her friend. "I'm sure, Sabé. Do you even realize what would happen if I didn't show up? It would be an insult to him, and there's no point in hoping to escape punishment for that. Besides, he would probably find me before I had a chance to escape." She sighed, crossing her arms around in front of her, and dropping her head down between them in a act of distress. "I told you." Her voice was muffled and despairing. "It's hopeless."

Yané was an demure and quiet person, and the oldest of them all. She could be quite suggestive at times, but was by far the most tactful and sly of the handmaidens, in a innocent, careful way. Since she didn't talk much and just understood, she was the solid pillar of comfort. She also knew Padmé, inside and out, and these were not tears of fear or sadness, merely despair. In this instance, she remained silent and, sitting down next to Padmé, softly rubbed her back.

Dormé was quiet as well, but not quite reserved as Yané and rather open-minded and sweet. She was an good comforter as well, but in this sense, there wasn't much to say. So she resigned to sitting on the bed as well and just being quiet.

The more devious one of them, Rabé, felt sorry for her and attempted to ease the pain. _Attempted._ "Maybe you'll get lucky and he won't kill anyone on your date."

A quiet wail came from under the long curls.

Sabé was their leader, under Padmé of course. She was a free spirt, dirty minded and didn't mind speaking exactly what she thought as well as doing it. Her harebrained schemes go them into trouble all the time, and rarely worked to get them out, as it proved in this instance. "Well, who knows, he might be an actual gentleman and be nice. Darth Vader. Darth Vader has taken a liking to our Padmé. Fancy that. For your own sake, if he happens to get all touchy-feely with you, suck it up and take it. You don't really want to make him mad, you know."

Since Padmé didn't reply, she took that as her que to continue, not seeing the death glares being thrown at her by the rest of the handmaidens. "Did you know that some women would kill to be in your place? Mostly gold-diggers, wanting to live it up, Imperial style. Bloodthirsty female tyrants that would loved everyone to bow at their feet and call them Empress. They'd be terrified of him, of course, but what's that when you have power? Everyone knows that Vader will inherit the entire Empire after Palpatine dies, which will be hopefully soon. And then there are others who like him because they think he might actually be great in bed. Most people think that he might be into BDSM, which is like some weird, dark fantasy that they have. But who knows? It might actually-"

Padmé wailed again. Yané glowered at her. "Thank you, Sabé, but I think that's quite enough."

Dormé leaned forward, stoking Padmé's hair softly. "Hey, it's okay. We'll get through this, alight? He won't hurt you. You'll be okay."

Her words seemed to strike a chord in Padmé, as she slowly turned her head sideways so her slightly reddened and puffy face was visible, although covered with hair. Dormé gently smoothed them back. "You promise?" The words came out low and groggy.

She smiled softly, remembering that Padmé was still, that same young, free spirited and headstrong girl, although it wasn't much seen. "Promise."

Rabé, in a attempt to brighten her mood, jumped up and clapped her hands, walking over to the closet. "So, what are you going to wear?" She rifled though several dresses, most made by famous Nubian designers. "What about...this?" She pulled out an pretty white dress, rather figure hugging. "You'd contrast so nicely."

Padmé wiped her eyes before drawing her arms back, propping herself up on them. After a moment evaluation she gave a judgement. "To tight."

She held up a deep red gown.

"Too sexy."

Blue.

The exact shade of Skywalker's eyes, clear and bright as the ocean on the beach. It was magnificent. She was surprised she never noticed she had it before. But was she going to take an item of that exact hue to an Gala with Vader? Most certainly not. "No."

"Why not?" Rabé almost whined.

"No."

"Fine, how about this?"

"Absolutely not!" Padmé felt horrified.

"Why?"

"It's so revealing!"

"Since when has that been a problem?"

Padmé got up and walked past her, going to the heaviest, most unflattering and unattractive gowns she had, pulling them out and carrying them over to the bed with slight difficulty.

Her handmaidens look aghast.

Finally, Sabé spoke. "You cannot be serious!"

Padmé raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Why not?"

Sabé sputtered. "They're hideous! And grossly unflattering! If I was Vader I would kill you because your so ugly you don't deserve to live!"

"I don't intend to attract Vader at all. If he doesn't like my appearance, then he could just dismiss me as his date. And that's final."

"...don't understand. That dress was perfectly fine." She pushed past Sabé into her apartment, happy to get home after the exhausting trip they'd just returned home from.

Senator Padmé Amidala was just about done with life.

Sabé followed right after her. "You looked like a garage chute disposal bag."

Padmé sighed and kicked off her shoes off, before pressing her blaster to the underside of the small table next to the door of her messy closet. It accepted the weapon, the bottom opening to take it.

"Must you always carry that thing with you at all times?" Dormé grumbled thoughtlessly, one hand full of shopping bags, the other of Katus.

Padmé turned and looked at her sharply. Dormé flinched slightly at the look in her eyes. "Need I remind you what happened when we let our guard down?"

Dormé lowered her eyes, properly chastened. Unwanted memories sprang into her mind, memories of many horrible things she wanted to forget, shockingly bringing tears with them.

Padmé sighed again, stepping forward to take the bags from her hands, and taking Katus to rest on her hip. She stepped forward, pulling Dormé into her other side, and resting her head on top of Dormé's while she rubbed her shoulder. "I'm sorry for being so harsh. But even still we need to, be alert. You never know when it might save you."

"...Uh...guys?"

* * *

"Faster Jāuhn, Faster!"

Sweat ran across his brow, and under the clingy fabric of his shirt, he could feel it running down the smooth, slick muscles of his back.

 _Dammit._

He parried quickly, dropping down low to swing at Vader's feet, forcing him to step back. Taking it as his advantage, he moved forward, spinning, his staff meeting Vader's twice, and the Sith was forced to go on defensive. He recovered quickly, however, swinging his staff over Jāuhn head. He ducked, the tip of it just missing his hair.

"Focus, Chuba! Lazy Son ov chone shutta!"

"Well, I'm sorry to be such a disappointment." He huffed, retracing his steps.

 _Come on, come on..._

Vader went on offensive, instead of slashing out, he moved forward, locking blades with Jāuhn.

Their eyes met, dark brown on icy blue. But instead of the normal blank coolness, there was something else in them.

A challenge.

He met it with his own.

And suddenly was lying on his back, no breath left in his body.

"Arrogance doesn't suit you, Jāuhn." Vader gave him a kick in his side, looking down at him superiorly. Not enough to _really_ hurt him, but enough to hurt him. He grunted.

Vader leaned down, wrapping his arm around Jāuhn's and pulling him up. "Just so you know, when I joined the Empire and agreed to become your right hand man, I never thought that you was going to use me as your personal punching bag."

Vader nodded, graciously. "You're welcome."

Vader moved from the his spot to lean against the wall while Jāuhn sat, taking one of the fairly soft utilitarian towels sitting next to him. When he looked up, however, he noticed Vader watching him intently.

"Milord?"

"What exactly are you loyal to, Jāuhn?"

He blinked.

"Are you loyal to the Empire? To Palpatine? To me? The current government? The one that pays the best?"

He thought it over very carefully. Somehow, it didn't seem like a test. Vader was searching for something, and his next words would determine that. Of course, most men would answer 'to you milord,' to get into Vader's good graces, but instead he honestly considered it. Who was he loyal to?

"I believe..." he spoke slowly, choosing his word to carefully, describe his feelings. "I believe in serving what's right. Establishing order. I believe in justice. And I know you, and you will always do the right thing no matter what the loss. We've all suffered, all lost things of great importance to ourselves to gain greater heights. There are several obstacles, the rebels being the current, but it's insignificant in the greater picture. The republic was, at a time a good fantasy, but all in all, it was a fantasy. The Jedi at one time was a good idea, but they held back progressive action. So many things were good concepts, but ultimately unreachable. You know as well as I do, that there is only one solution to it all. So, taking all those things into consideration, I believe in what's right."

Something flashed in Vader's icy blue eyes.

Acceptance.

He pushed himself off the wall, coming over to were Jāuhn sat and sat down himself, sighing heavily. "I asked you this because, soon, very soon, things will change. Things that may cause a backlash. I want to know that you'll be here with me at the time."

Jāuhn stared at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

 _Like usual, he got no answer._

* * *

"I don't understand..." Padmé said slowly, staring at the ornate design on the on the cover of the smooth, black box. The brand wasn't the confusing thing, no, the designer was the most famous of all of Naboo. Their expertise surpassed fashion and jewelry, even moving to home, to help one live in utmost luxury. And, by far, the most expensive. Padmé occasionally indulged in her works, but the dress prices were so extravagant she usually felt superfluous for ever buying them. No, her confusion was from the outrageous notion of the sender. "Why would Vader buy me... _something_ from _Chiale?"_

 _"_ Open it!" Her handmaidens fairly danced around her.

"But..."

"Open it!"

Padmé walked numbly over to her bed, sitting down softly as her handmaidens piled around her, some on the bed and the others in the floor. Gently grasping the top of the slim box, she held it up. The bottom slid out with a quiet _shh_. She paused, half turning to set down the cover.

 _Oh..._

Her gaze dropped, her eyelashes spreading in a fan-ish fashion, hovering across her cheekbones. The inside of the box was lined with black silk, nestling the contents within its luxurious folds. Slowly, slowly, her eyes sank to the real package, as her long white nails just brushed it, and, finally, she pulled it out, baring it for her to see.

 **A/N: AAAAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I had so much fun writing this chapter! I am so excited for the next. Can you imagine! In fact, I'm excited for the next few chapters, I mean...EEEEEEEEEEEEE! So much will be happening soon, and I mean next chapter soon. There was so much more I wanted to put into this chapter, but then I would have an** _ **8,000**_ **word chapter, and as happy as that would make you, I don't want to make your expectations so high only to disappoint. Also, everything will become very, very,** _ **very,**_ **steamy for here on. I so want to tell you my entire schedule for the next few chapters, but for now I leave you to guess. What do you think Padmé got? Let me know in the comments. Theorize! I am sorry though, that it took me so long to make this chapter. I try to make my chapter as good as they were before (and I feel like I'm still not,) so I keep rewriting.**

 **xx,**

 **Christina.**

 **P.S: When I say Imperial Center, I most likely mean the Imperial base on Coruscant, but it may mean the planet itself rarely.**

 **FUN FACT: The next chapter will be called...Mercenary Dates And Unexpected Executions. (Who do you thinks going to die? My vote's on Slevla.)**

 **Word Count: 6714 (WHATTT! Longest chapter!)**


	18. XV: Mercenary Dates And Unexpected Execu

**A/N: Iyiyiyiyyiyancdnjnggneeeeeeek! Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, ayy...just can't stop dancin,' Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, ayy, don't wanna chance it! So don't let, don't let go of me, don't let, don't let go of me, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, ayy...I just can't stop dancin.' (Btw, on a serious note, if you want to turn up, listen to that song. Becky G - Can't Stop Dancin')**

Stealth.

His entire boy was motionless, hi breaths slow and even. The cold surface of the door was numbing to his ear, which was pressed against the smooth surface. His eyes lowered slightly as he pressed tighter against the door. The atmosphere and gravity levels shifted, his weight growing heavier and more solid, reminiscent to an public lift, indicating their landing. Quiet mumbles and the sound of shuffling movent was picked up by only by the graces of force-enhanced hearing. The quiet sound of steam hissing drifting to his ears signified that the ship was preparing to be opened.

It took the men almost twenty minutes to get anywhere near the second room where he could hear them. "...still don't understand why he ran off like that. I would have expected that after he got his money and maybe some extra, but no, he just took off."

"Are you sure he didn't leave the ship?"

"I thought he was inside, but when we looked around, he wasn't there."

"Suspicious."

"Yeah..."

Obi-Wan's eyes drifted to the sleeping Barabel on the floor. No, indeed, he hadn't left the ship.

Now came the plan of escape. There was no point in hiding. The ship was stocked in a way that meant that there was no way to hide. The crates were stocked to the ceiling, and full of...stuff...

The cross hallway shape also meant that there was no hiding spots. His only hope was to be to sneak out between loads, in hopes of not being seen.

His perceptional and peripheral view informed him of a tiny shift to his right just as the Barabel next to him began to slowly, slowly come out from under the influence of the sleep drugs, still leaving him slow and sluggish. Unfortunately, dosing him with more sedatives might not be a genius idea, as too much might cause overdose.

There was a slight thump from the other room. "Alright, that's it for this room."

Obi-Wan waited, and once he sensed that they were all gone, slid open the door just as his travel companion groaned and sat up. Taking that as his que, Obi-Wan stepped out into the openness of the second room, and began heading the front of the ship. The mechanic smell of the ships was the first scent that hit his nose, the second, smoke. The sound of many voices and laughing echoed around the ship, slightly muted but growing sharper and more distinct at the opening.

He carefully slid up next to the ramp opening, risking a glance out before pushing himself back against the wall.

He was officially standing in the middle of an black market trading facility, and lacking the authority, could do absolutely nothing about it.

Blast it all to hell.

Breathe.

He peeked out again, checking one last time. He quickly exited the ship, instead of walking down the ramp he quickly jumped off the side, and walked under it. Seeing the no one saw his swift departure, he pulled his hood up, intent on drifted into the crowd of customers.

Relax.

It was just when he was sure he was beyond danger when he heard the shout. "Get him!"

Chuba.

It was inhuman torture, but it would never show in his actions.

Taunt.

Gone was glorious swelling of the dark side. Gone was the rippling power that emanated from his apprentice. Instead, it was drawn. Still there, but tight, drawn close to his presence. Palpatine wasn't sure that Vader even knew exactly how much he impacted the Force. But despite it all, there was something else beyond Vader. The time had come.

But for what?

If only he knew. He felt certain the Force was ready to explode on any given second. The anticipation levels were so high. The Force trembled. The blade that had run across the treads had thinned them evenly, till they each held on by the very last fiber. One pluck would be its outdoing, and yet, they still seemed strong.

It was inhuman torture, but it would never show in his actions.

He was determined to be unmovable, no matter how strained things became.

As for his apprentice, he could only guess that Vader had sensed the shift as well and it was putting him on edge, just as the idyllic lack of action between the Empire and the Alliance was gnawing at his nerves. It was his plan though, and for now in order to bring utter devastation to the Rebels, he must not touch them. No doubt it irked him especially that this Jedi, Kenobi, was walking all over Coruscant but Vader refrained from slaughtering him.

But no matter how tense Vader became, and how tight the Force got, he would be unmovable, unruffled, and unchallengeable.

 _(Flashback)_

 _The previous evening._

 _500 Republica,_

 _Coruscant_

 _Padmé walked numbly over to her bed, sitting down softly as her handmaidens piled around her, some on the bed and the others in the floor. Gently grasping the top of the slim box, she held it up. The bottom slid out with a quiet shh. She paused, half turning to set down the cover._

 _Oh..._

 _Her gaze dropped, her eyelashes spreading in a fan-ish fashion, hovering across her cheekbones. The inside of the box was lined with black silk, nestling the contents within its luxurious folds. Slowly, slowly, her eyes sank to the real package, as her long white nails just brushed it, and, finally, she pulled it out, baring it for her to see._

 _It was a dress._

 _One of the most sensually beautiful she'd ever seen._

 _Black as night, it was a rather formfitting garment. The upper part of it was composed of an choker shaped neckline that descended all the way to the bottom of the dress, covered in tiny black caracosa gems that glinted, catching the light in a way that dazzled one's mind in it's glory. The bodice part of the dress was covered halfway by an thick shawl that was sewn on either side of the long chain of jewels down the middle. The shawl had been made of feathers, the thick layers of plumage appearing stiff, but was soft and smooth to the touch, the underside coated with down feathers so soft it wasn't classifiable as feathers, seeming to have been stolen from the fluffy clouds of Naboo she used to dream of sitting on._

 _And the bodice itself, from what was visible under the overshawl, was an work of perfect art. Every stitch was perfection. Precise beyond reason, the seams were smooth and flawless. Made of prize leather, the bodice was an form fitting style. It was paneled, but not in an bulky or ostentatious manner. No, it was designed for sinuousness, the two flat seams on the side made to flatter the figure, drawing focus of the hourglass figure of an ideally shaped female._

 _The skirt was an cream color, made of silk. Black lace covered the entire skirt, which was formfitting at the top and spread out at the knee._

 _It was magnificent._

 _Her handmaidens were of similar opinion, gazing at it with admiration of its intricate design._

 _"Oh, milady." Dormé breathed, looking at the masterpiece with starry eyes. "It's beautiful. Are you going to try it on?"_

 _Her dark eyes snapped to her handmaiden's brown on brown. Her face was as blank as her mind, that was so completely overridden with thoughts that processing them was impossible. The switch in her mind had been tripped, and everything shut off. "Yeah...I guess..." Her voice was quiet, and she slowly rose and tried to figure out how to disassemble it. Her handmaidens rose from their spots as well, helping her silently._

 _Sabé's dainty fingers found the zipper on the back of the collar which had cleverly covered by an tiny overlap covered by gems to blend in. Opening that part was easy. When she reached the back, she was puzzled to find it covered by the seamless shawl of feathers. The dress didn't open at the front, though the checked it anyway. It was firmly stitched to the bodice and skirt._

 _Padmé ran her nails over the smooth feathers. Since there was no opening on the back and it attached to either side of the bejeweled line down the middle, she slid her fingers under the plumage clad shawl, searching for something, anything, around the area around the collar. Moving her hand to the middle, her fingers brushed something cold. Very small, but cool to her sensitive fingertips. Her gaze sharpened and focused on the barely noticeable seam. "Hold on..."_

 _Shifting it in her hands, she turned and set it on the bed. Because of the feathers and slight overlap of fabric as well as their tiny and unnoticeable design, she could barely see them. The shined the same color as the caracosas, polished to shine. They were hooks, the kind that joined a corset or kept together an brassière. "Sabé, help me."_

 _It took a good few seconds before she was unhooking the last one, she lifted the dress up, pulling the outer garment out from underneath. When she looked back at the dress, however, she released a horrified shriek and jumped back, nearly dropping it. Her handmaidens started at the noise._

 _The bodice was completely topless. From the way she could tell, it was like a corset, and chest would be pushed up and over the top, covered only the shawl._

 _What the kriffing hell?_

 _Dormé was the first to speak, her voice uncertain. "Let's just have you try it on first, then you can see how it's supposed to fit."_

 _"Yeah..."_

 _Dormé took charge, finding the hidden zipper on the back, then handing back to Padmé, who went to change in the fresher. Setting it down on the sink counter, she began stripping, pulling her short shirt up over head slowly. Her luxurious tresses fell from inside it, brushing the creamy skin of her back. Pulling off her skirt so she was only in her simple seamless underwear, made to blend almost completely into her skin, she picked up the dress._

 _It was uncomfortable. The bodice tightened the most at her hips and not the waist, her head was pulled down by and strap that was far to short, and to top it of, her breasts hung awkwardly over the top. "Um...guys, help?"_

 _The door nearly burst open, all of them, trying to see the trouble. There was absolute silence for a few moments. Yané, leaning with her back against the wall with a contemplative look on her face, decided to take action. Pushing herself of the wall, she walk around Padmé, looking her up and down. She paused suddenly, snapping her fingers. Finding Padmé's brassiere strap, she unhooked it, and pulled it off._

 _Padmé squirmed slightly. "Yané, what the-"_

 _"You need to be unzipped first." Yané mused, pulling down the zipper. Once Padmé was free, she lifted, but this time, she had it fitting her waist properly._

 _"Yané, that won't work. I'd have to push my boobs down in there, and it'll suffocate my chest and I can't wear my brassiere and..."_

 _"Mmhm." Pulling it up higher until Padmé's chest was fitted inside, she re-zipped it, the dress hugging the sensual curves of her waist, and holding her chest snugly, but not enough to cause discomfort, instead good support. The entire bodice did. The corset style may have seemed uncomfortable as tight, but was really an voucher for good posture. But before she could even check how it looked, Sabé jumped forward, covering her eyes with a scarf. "Uh, uh, you don't get to see how it looks until it's done."_

 _"But Sabé..."_

 _"No."_

 _She heard Rabé jumping up and down and squealing as Dormé slid long fingerless gloves over her hands, so long the came about as high as the top of the dress. "I found these in the bottom of the box."_

 _Soft down brushed her chest as the girls set work to properly attach the shawl. After they finished, she felt them step back, admiring the handiwork. She felt gentle fingers on her bare shoulders, turning her the mirror. The blindfold came off, and she hesitantly looked at the mirror, afraid of what she might see._

 _It was beautiful, regal in a seductive way she never thought was possible. Every aspect of it was flattering, accentuating and focusing on the attractive and decidedly female curves._

 _Rabé came up to her side, unhooking the shawl so the bodice was visible._

 _A soft gasp escaped her full pink lips as they parted slightly._

 _The dress had taken on a whole new look. Without the shawl, it was purely sexual, meant for the most shameless of seductresses. There was nothing slutty about it, the term seeming disgusting and undeserving of it. It spoke power, wealth, and sexiness. Every bit was teasing, attacking the greatest of male desires. Her breasts were showcased, pushed up to show them off. She could literally see her buns rising in the oven every time she breathed. The bodice fulfilled every lust-induced desire of men for the tiny waist and the sinuousness of it. The creamy silk skirt held to her smooth skin in the most tempting of ways, and the black lace went without explanation._

 _Suddenly, soft laughs slipped past Sabé's lips, and she tried to hold it back, clapping her hand over her mouth. But it was vain, for laughter cannot be contained. It burst forth, loud and boisterous from being held back. "O-h my g-godd.." She doubled over, clutching her stomach as tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over. "If we didn't know Vader's preference before, we do now."_

 _After a moment she tried failingly to recompose herself, but made the mistake at looking at Padmé's reflection._

 _She burst into another fit of giggles._

 _(End of Flashback)_

Laying nude in her bed, she pondered on that one thought while she stared at the ceiling, not seeing a thing. It was early morning now, and she had woken only to go to shower, dry off and fall back into bed. The sheets twisted around her, crisp and white, while she laid in the middle, one of her fingers absently playing with the curls spread out around her. The early morning light from the windows illuminated her slim figure, highlighting her curves and darkening her dips.

Focus.

The slim, rectangular black box sat up on her dresser, the catching only a smooth sheen from the light on the surface. The tiny designer's emblem sat in the middle, the embossed brand shiny. But that wasn't what drew her attention. It was the mark around that. Large, and a polished red, the Imperialist symbol was impossible not to noice. But it wasn't that that bothered her even still.

The Imperialists were utilitarian, most of their things factory standard, although of the best quality. The Empire loved order. There was no diversity, no different colored clothes or anything as such. The troopers wore armor mostly black and white, the Imperials wore plain grey outfits, and the children that were taught in the school wore the same. Every thing was the same. For each division was an entire order. Same with all supplies. Everything was either grey or white. Which meant that every Imperialist symbol that was to be seen (and there were many) was black, on a grey or white background.

Not Vader. Vader's mansion, if it could be called so, was black. Vader dressed black. His ships were black. His troops were black. Everything that was strictly meant for him was black. Red was the secondary color. You couldn't be sure by one alone, but put together and the was no denying it. The black was the canvas, and the red was his mark just as darkness was his home, and blood his paint.

Vader...

The thought ran though her mind that night, The only the same that was haunting her right now.

Vader...

He had sent this dress. What did he mean by it? Why would he give her this of all things? She never thought Vader would be one to give any care to the appearance of a woman, be she the most beautiful of women stark naked or the shabbiest and most hideous covered in rags. It didn't seem likely for him to have any interest in any female, or possible for that matter. And most certainly not her, the one who opposed him so greatly.

Unless that was it.

Perhaps it was the fact that she despised everything he'd done. It made her an sort of conquest to him.

Was he possible of winning a woman? In a romantic sense or sexual? Did he desire female companionship at all? It was a subject that she'd never considered.

 _And yet..._

That didn't seem right either. When he'd accepted her 'invitation,' it had been like some sort of game to him. She was a plaything to him. Something to torture and at the same time something to be his pawn. Unless he really did want her...in that way, and she had played into his plan, him getting is way like usual. What was denied him? He had power enough to move sun and stars. She was a plaything.

Plaything.

Was that what she was in the eyes of the Empire? A toy they kept around to amuse themselves? She knew that was how she was to Vader. He'd treated her as such. He was a gentleman, smooth and calm, but nowhere near harmless. He was savage, cruel and merciless, playing with ones mind and confusing it with soft, dark alluring tones, catching them off guard with his height and powerful presence, numbing with his nearness and drawing them in with those lips until they became completely his.

His.

What would it mean to Vader's?

It would mean safety. Everything concerning Vader was on lockdown, and under his protection, you were impenetrable. It meant respect. People feared what could harm them. There was the foolish and proud, but they were cowards at heart. The stupid, so beyond help that couldn't fear death because of the twistedness of their minds. There were the brave, strong enough to die for what they believed in, but wise enough to not risk their lives stupidly. The last category was hers. But even more than the fear of of death, was the fear of now who could take you to hell and back several times and make you live through it.

It meant endless resources. The galaxy would bow at your feet, nothing beyond your reach. But beyond the great privileges, there were fault as well.

It would mean coldness. Yes, Vader had a velvet tongue, but forget not his cold heart. He didn't care for anything or anyone, and if he intended to claim her there was no hope of affection.

It would mean guilt. Guilt that the things that she'd fought hard for and believed in were being destroyed by the same man who held her captive.

It would mean constant fear. The knowledge that the man, the same who would raise her above the world would kill people, men, women, children without remorse and do the same to her if she tipped him off would kill her.

The quiet beeping of the door caused her to half sit up, pausing to make sure that it was someone there and not her imagination.

It beeped again.

She groaned quietly, running her hands up and down her face a moment before she stopped, her hands on the lower half of her face. It beeped again, and she sighed, slowly slithering out of bed and reaching for her robe. Pulling it on, she yawned, tying it while she headed towards the door. Her palm pressed on the tiny table, and she pulled her blaster out from underneath, muttering irritably while she slid her hand in her robe, thus successfully hiding from view.

The door slid open, revealing Senator Rush Clovis, a pathetically sad expression on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Padmé didn't even think about it, she kneed him in the groin and shut the door, the thump of his body on the floor and his pained groan sounding the same time it shut.

Just when she had about made it to her room to whine about the unfairness of life, there was another beep.

A three hundred and sixty turn saw her back at the door, her fist tight around her blaster. The door hissed, revealing the person standing outside. "Blast it all to hell Clovis, what now-"

Hellhara No'um looked up sharply, her curious gaze previously fixed on the pitiful womanizing Senator crawling away. She straightened, but her eyes were soft, filled with sympathy. "Miss Amidala? I need to talk with you about Katus. I thought it'd be better to do in person. He's been offered a request for adoption."

One unarmed man.

Nearly a thousand heavily armed bounty hunters.

Impossible?

The blaster bolts whizzed around him, and Obi-Wan mentally cursed himself for not bringing a blaster. Despite his lightsaber, he was bereft of the ability to defend himself. Besides, when you had an entire legion of bounty hunters always ready for a kill, exposing himself as a Jedi was very, very, foolish.

"Dear force, what did I ever do to deserve this?" He ducked, glancing back and forth between himself and the end of sales, all of which was being held in a giant alley next to the hanger. "Did I ever blaspheme you? Ever fallen close to the dark side? Ever questioned you wisdom?" His cover, giant thick metal tins containing gas pinged from another blaster bolt. "Those fools, do they want to blow me up?"

Yes, yes they do.

"Scratch that, do they want to blow us all up?" Obi-Wan didn't swear much. He considered it useless and an practice of the unrefined. However, in this case he decided it wasn't as bad, especially if if it was Mando'a.

He made a run for it.

And luckily for him, because just at that exact moment, a blaster bolt made it through metal.

Explosion.

Time slowed.

Fire burst out, so magnanimous, it almost devoured the entire alley, voracious in it's power. Glass shattered, crystalline shards rising and separating from their original shape. The wave of hot air surrounding the combusted area lashed out, lifting bodies in the air with sheer force. Stands and goods were pushed away rising to the air, everything held in suspense.

Resume.

Unbearable heat, scorching everything it could touch. Glass flew, the tiny slivers like knives, burying themselves into brick and durasteel, and the flesh of beings. Bodies were like dolls, some landing on ground, some consumed in fire some hitting the way with a sickening crunch and falling down, others just falling over a little. All goods were destroyed, either burned or ruined.

Silence, save a few coughs and heaves. The fog was thick as smoke, some stands still burning. Taking advantage of the bounty laid before him, Obi-Wan jumped up, sharp pain flaring up from his ankle to his hip, and tingeing at his back. He winced slightly, emitting a small groan of pain. He had landed on his side, and the injury showed. Limping infinitesimally, he placed the price of freedom above the suffering.

A soft cough, and the sound of shuffling cut through the smoke and dust. "I'll get you for this, Jedi! You won't get away next time!"

His back pressed against the wall outside the alley, his chest heaving.

One unarmed man.

Nearly a thousand heavily armed bounty hunters.

Impossible?

All things are possible with the force as your ally.

Late afternoon,

Imperialist Mansion (Vader's Residence/Domicile),

Fireplace room

Coruscant.

Flames.

How would it feel to fall in? To let it completely consume you, body and soul? To feel the flames paint artwork on your skin, blazing the hues of sunrise and evening? To feel the searing sensation eat away your flesh until at last solace be found as the soul is released from he perishable restrictions of the body, leaving behind the carcass, plain and simple, the morbid design underneath the layers of carefully constructed skin, the facade of beauty a painting for the same infrastructure in every being of it's kind?

That was all it was, wasn't it? An outer shell. Take away the imperfect but accepted skin, and replace it with transparency, and what would you have. The same beautiful, kind and loving person, and the great unique ability to see the system of which allows the person their liberties. And yet, never again would they be beautiful, rather frightening and unnatural.

But it was all the same. The only difference was the covering, which made it pleasant to look at. Take it away, and it was unbearable to watch. But it was there, still visible and yet so hidden. Beings fooled themselves, tricking themselves to believe that all the small wonders of the body didn't exist, and let their eyes guide them.

But she had taken it to an entirely different level.

Flames reflected on the surface of her chocolate brown eyes, left natural of most cosmetic products save a light smokey eyes, darkening her pools and making them appear lustful, just as well did the mascara did her already heavy lashes. The soft skin of her face was left bare, without blemishes or makeup. Her lips had been left without lipstick or gloss, the natural pink far more appealing than an doctored color. Silver bands across her forehead shone in the flickering light. Braided in one simple plait, her hair, had had a long separated twist wrapped around it, before it was carefully pinned elegantly above her head, a few soft wisps escaping and brushing the delicate flesh of her neck.

Her shawl off, she was a sight to behold.

Her body had been molded into the sinuous shape of an hourglass, the smooth leather giving off a reddened sheen. The dancing, ever changing flames picked out different pieces of the bejeweled collar and giving them cause to shine. A a soft haze of blue caught the light, bending the rays and appearing like liquid, her earrings glistened, the lightsaber crystals standing out as the only color of her ensemble. Her skin took on a golden hue, bronzing under light of of fire. Her eyes looked nearly black, only faint highlights of brown peeking out. Darkened, her lips took on the hue of a soft red.

Placed inside an small alcove in the wall, the fire was itself was situated in a golden half basket, the wood set inside of it. The back of the backdrop was made of bronze, arched back, while the sides were made of marble, two large golden decorational pieces on either side.

Tangible power, unequaled in it's kind.

Her eyes subtly dropped down and to the side, her lashes spreading and her heart rate increasing. She watched the golden ornament, looking past the distorted images of flames for something else...something else...

The darkened shadows and swirls in it shifted infinitesimally.

She turned, and her breathing stilled.

She watches him, and he mirrors her.

Calm and still as a statue, he stood with his arms crossed over his chest, and his head cocked to the side. It is a causal pose she never would have suspected him capable of. How long had he been watching her? How long since he decided to make it known to her? There was no doubt in her mind that she only felt him when he wanted her to. He came and went as he pleased, silent as a feline, unbeknownst of the surrounding company. They didn't feel it unless he wanted them to.

He walks, people all around him parting and moving away. No eyes see. No one notices. The tall, dark character cutting through the people is invisible to all around. The force bubble around him makes him unnoticeable to all eyes. He's there, of course. He is a visible creature. He can be seen. But no one sees. He walks amongst them and they don't even register him at all. It makes it easy to walk against the bustle of the city. It discourages contact, so people unconsciously walk around him not realizing that they were even doing it. They don't notice the gap in the crowd.

It's a subtle parting in the crowds, but she sees it, and it's odd. She watches as it approaches, cutting through the clamor around it. Then she sees him, the robes, the glint of steel, the hood and the darkness beneath. And just like that he stops. He looks up, staring right at her and their eyes meet. She can't see his eyes, but she feels them. He stares straight at her and she stares straight at him.

It was unnerving to think that there might have been a time when she might have walked right past him, never once seeing him.

Was Vader human?

His skin, or what could be seen of it, was light and tanned. An surprisingly odd thought, especially because he seemed to be so frequently in darkness that he would more likely be as pale as a ghost. He was built like an human or at least humanoid, with a tall, muscular figure, although lean other than bulky. What she didn't understand, was how any human being could stand remaining in such darkness. Being so closed off from the outside world seemed virtually impossible. Mentally she was no better, her mind in a haze of undistinguishable images. Was it possible for a human to be so...cold? There were other elements as well, elements such as the power he held.

Vader was a Sith. It was no secret, unequivocal, neither was the fact that Palpatine was an practitioner of the Dark Side as well. The Force allowed it's own many different things, but what Vader possessed...it was unheard of.

So it boiled down to the same question.

Was Vader human?

No.

And Skywalker? (Curious, how her mind always put them in close thought with each other.)

The force works in mysterious ways.

Yeah right. That was just his way of not answering the question. As far as any force-sensitives were concerned, the Force dictated every living thing. He might as well said that he was just a strange freak of nature.

As far as she was concerned, despite the oddities that the force fancied interesting to bless random people with, it was far from probable that it just gave him a second eye color to use at leisure. Along with the thought that the force was putting them through hell and back for fun, she wasn't quite sure she wanted some insane deity handling her future.

What was he thinking?

What did he see when he looked at her?

What did he feel?

Did he feel at all?

Her eyes wandered over him, taking in him.

Anger.

Vader's temper remained unchallenged, or rather that wasn't the right statement. He had temper, that much was known. She believed the assumption was concerning what set him off. He didn't blow up at every little comment, no, but when he was angry, his self-restraint was lost. He reacted hugely, destroying innumerable things around him. She had assumed that he would just lose it and go berserk many times, when in reality, he wasn't unreasonable, just threw the biggest temper tantrums ever known in the galaxy.

She'd had a long internal reassurance meeting with herself before she came. She was determined to not let him intimidate her. He couldn't hurt her (Could he?), so she had no reason to be afraid.

It shamed her how she hid from him all the time. She had conquered his master, consequently, he should be no challenge for her. She wasn't afraid of him, and nothing he could do could chan-

He moved.

Kriffing hell.

Pushing himself away from the wall, he came towards her, stalking her silently until she could feel his heat coming off him, could smell that unique masculine smell that was Vader, until he completely filled her vision. Her eyes were wide, her pupils expanding as much as possible to fathom so much darkness. She knew she must look strange to him, completely wide eyed as she drew on her quickly diminishing nerve. Her eyes naturally lowered to his mouth, admiring his full lips.

Was it fair for a Sith to have nice lips?

A small mark above his lip gave her pause. Where..?

The corner of Skywalker's lip lifted, and she noticed a tiny beauty mark right above his lip.

Wai-

He walked around her, taking in every part of her in the dress he picked. She lowered her eyes, staring down at the floor as he inspected her, feeling his icy gaze sweep over her slender figure, willing calmness into herself. A low hum of approval originated from the pit of him throat causing a strange feeling of...pleasure to reverberate through her. Just like that, her wavering self-preservation bubble burst.

What was wrong with her?

He was in front of her now, but she didn't look at him, instead focusing on the ground, trying to understand why she'd reacted that way, and why the room was suddenly so heated.

What mind game are you using now Vader?

It had to be some force trick he was using. Some manipulation. It scared her, the thought that Vader could be remotely pleasant was beyond her.

But why not?

There were horrendous villains, inherently evil ones, ones like Palpatine, ones easy to hate.

And then there were the other kind, the kind that played with one's mind, tricked it to believe that it wasn't as bad as originally thought, ones that somehow made that darkness alluring. The worst part about it was that although it was known to be wrong, the reason why was always forgotten. They possessed your mind, and took control, in the most happy delirious death you could have. Kill you, and have you enjoy every minute of it.

Vader was one of those ones.

It was...disconcerting.

He reached out, moving his hand near her face, and for minute she thought he was going cup her cheek. But he didn't, instead, sliding his gloved fingers over her neck until they entangled in her hair, carefully so not to dismantle it. She stiffened, freezing in place.

His gloved thumb traced along her sensual curve upper lip, and she could imagine he watched it with fascination.

Close.

He was so close, she could feel his breath on her ear. It was turbulently to most erotic and terrifying feeling, a strange combination she had never come into contact with before.

"Magnificent."

A whispered word for her only to hear. His voice was aphrodisiac, and she despised the way she responded to it. He was dangerous, far more dangerous than she'd given him credit for. She shouldn't be allured or enchanted by him, but she was. If he could work this form of dark magic on her mind, and no doubt others, then she'd have been disillusioning himself. It was foolish to believe that he wasn't capable of something so atrociously divine as what he was doing to her, she could see that now. He was capable, far more than she realized, and what's worse, he was horrifying good at it.

In a rather large ray of things, actually.

She didn't move, or look, determined not to appear affected.

She just focused on not peeing in her panties.

He paused at her earrings, looking at them a long moment before moving on.

His hand moved forward, coming around to the front of her neck, his grip tightening.

What is he...

Her eyes raised to his, confusion and panic mixing into horrified realization. She'd been here before, and as his grip tightened ever more, not yet enough to hurt, she understands.

He's going to strangle her.

Her mind was suddenly riddled with thoughts of an similar event happening only a short time ago.

Gone was the mystic blue and the golden in his irises, replaced with an unhealthy yellow-red color that was oddly familiar, filled with malice and all forms of negative energy. He looked at her as though she was his mortal enemy, absolute hate etched in his face. Even with her sudden loss of breath and the intense pain originating from his fist crushing her neck that was probably forming bruises, she sees the change.

In one second, an friend had turned to an enemy, ready to kill her immediately.

She didn't even realize her instinctive reaction until her hand curled around his fist, trying to create a wedge between his hand and her throat.

She couldn't see his face, but she didn't need to. There would be no emotion there, no feeling, no compassion or sick joy. Just...heartless.

"You feel that?" His voice was cold, without any hint of the seductive tone it had carried before. Her nails dug harder into his hands, but oddly, she didn't feel like it was making the slightest impact, that rather than flesh, it was something...harder. He pulled her forward, closer to that darkness. "Never forget this, Amidala."

She nodded, eyes wide, her eyes pleading for him to let her go.

"Good."

He released her, and she stumbled back, rubbing her neck while staring at him fear.

Screw bravery.

Then, he smiled, slow, malicious and predatory.

Like he hadn't just choked her in inquiry of her courage.

Stepping away from her, he held out his hand to her.

"Come along Amidala. Our stage awaits."

He reached for her, and, having no other choice, she took it.

He felt powerful.

Not in the sense of himself, but in the protective sense. She felt powerful, with him behind her, and his palm on the small of her back. It bothered her, that the man who just mock strangled her, now had the audacity to place his hands on her. But the feeling of him behind her, backing her up, was like no other.

She stood at the top of the staircase but out of view, waiting for the time they were to go in. From where she was, she could clearly see every person beneath her. It was...strange.

It burned.

The feel his hands making contact with her was electric. The constant reminder, and comfortable but firm feel of his palm was...pleasant, but entirely inappropriate. It was normal for a man to put his hand there, of course, but the heat and awareness that flared from the spot was nearly unbearable. Maybe it was because she despised him so greatly it stung, tingling to the point she wanted to crawl out of her dress. But instead of the expected disgust, she just felt...arousal?

It wasn't lust.

She didn't want Vader. At all. But somehow, she rather appreciated the feel of his hands. Her mind shied from him, and her body obeyed, but still found pleasure in his touch. Impatience, and something about her felt ticklish. He was teasing her body, and she needed something to soothe it.

She refused to believe that it Vader.

She didn't want him anywhere near her.

She wanted something she couldn't even name, let alone understand, and refused to believe that he caused it.

She must simply be responding to a man's touch. It'd had been a long while since she felt a man's touch.

Sabé was right. She really, really needed to get laid.

But it felt oddly good to have him behind her. Especially since she was about to be revealed as his date.

"Jāuhn." She looked up when she heard him speak. He signaled to the young Adm. that just appeared and somehow seemed to always be around him. But by doing so, he removed the weight of his palm from her back. She instantly missed it, but it was quickly placed back.

Disturbing.

Paddit came to stand beside Vader on the other side of her. He briefly glanced at her, giving her a warm, friendly and polite smile, which she returned genuinely. It was nice to see a fairly kind Imperial, knowing how most of them thought of her. He was rather laid back though, showing no hesitation around Vader, and seem completely at ease.

"Time?" His tone was brusque and sharp.

"'Bout...half a minute." Paddit responded in turn, the same crisp way. She'd heard Imperials talk before, and that appeared to be their normal form of communication.

"Fair enough."

"Are you prepared?"

"She is, isn't she?" His tone was dreamy and soft.

Padmé blinked, turning to look at Paddit the same time Vader did. She followed his gaze to were a pretty young woman with long black hair sat, waiting patiently. Padmé glanced back at his smitten face.

"Jāuhn!"

He jumped, snapping to attention so fast it was almost comical. "Milord."

"Good."

Paddit glanced down at his chrono-watch. "Six...five...four..."

Padmé took a deep breath and steeled herself.

"Three, two..."

Vader removed his hand from her back, holding it up, and she placed her hand on top of his.

One.

And they stepped into the open.

Immediately, a complete hush went through the room.

Then, a collective gasp.

Magnificent.

A word once used to describe her not so long as an hour ago, the same one she used to describe the dress she wore, was the only thing she could use to describe the room that moment. Every reflective surface cast hazy and mesmerizing images across the room. In the dishes, shining silver platters, champagne glasses, the cuff links of men, the necklace jewelry the rested against the breasts of women clothed in the most luxurious silks, in their earrings, still swinging like an tiny glinting chandeliers, and above the glittery skin of their eyes and paint on there nails. The cameras from the holo-reporters froze, as did the people angling them.

Colors.

Rich red, blood pooling around their feet. Deep mesmerizing blue, like swimming in the waterfalls. Royal purple, expensive beyond comparison. Emerald green, reminiscent of the fields and valleys of Naboo, plucked clean of any of it's beautiful blossoms.

Not a single yellow color to be found.

Then black.

The single negative of colors, swallowing all that could be seen.

It devoured light, eating it up with ravenous hunger. Light brought forth life. The sun brought rippling waves of grass across barren land with the help of water. Flowers thrust up for the earth, exposing the most vibrant array of colors to be seen.

Darkness stifled it, drowning out every vibrancy to be seen. Colors withered and died, the lack of brightness.

This was the color she wore.

It was not to be seen anywhere else in the room, but on her, and her date.

It was almost amusing, the looks on everyone's face.

Shock.

It was the only emotion. Pretty little red lips dropped all over the room. It was as though an conductor had taken control of them. Eyebrows reached for the hairline. Eyes widened. Mouths parted. They watched in horrified fascination as they descend down the stairs gracefully.

She would not let the Empire win.

She would let them see how much this affected her.

She kept her gaze straight forward, her head raised, the perfect balance of control, superiority, and elegance. Dazzling lights and rich colors decorated either side of her vision. The people parted before them, creating direct way from where she was to where Palpatine sat. Padmé immediately noticed the difference in the seating. Normally, Vader stood behind Palpatine, who sat above everyone else. This time, however, as it would not be appropriate for him to stand, not with her.

Five black seats had been arranged in curved fashion. Palpatine sat in the middle in the most exalted seat. There were two others on either side, and she suspected that they would shut on the right side. Her theory was proven correct by the fact that the two seats on the left were occupied, by Grand Moff Tarkin of whom she recognized, and Adm. Paddit. Amazing how fast he had taken his spot.

Behind them, three large black Imperialist banners hung, decorated with the red emblem.

Vader's emblem.

So uniform, it was one thing to be admired and disdained. The Empire excelled in order, and despised diversity. It made for a pretty picture, very aesthetically pleasing, the regimented lifestyle, but it was altogether futile if it was backbone for the work of evil.

A soft _crash!_ and thump drew her attention.

She didn't turn, examining the scene from the corner of her eye.

She couldn't tell if it was the same person who had fainted at the first time she saw Vader at the ball, but the irony and déja vu was almost amusing.

At at the same time, not.

The first time, she watched him timidly from the shadows, and this time she was here as his date.

Well.

He led her to her seat, and she nodded to him gracefully. To be honest, she was deeply grateful that he had given the seat farthest from Palpatine. It earned him a few points in her book. He then moved past her two his own settle back in it.

Well, at least her loyalty would never be doubted again.

Padmé shifted slightly. The seat was surprisingly comfortable despite the fact that they look like they had been made of stone, but she was unsure of how she would sit. The men were reclined in a powerful stance, their palms on their armrests, but doubted that sitting back like that was permissible or appropriate. So instead, she shifted until her back was against the cushion, and, maintaining her posture with the help of the corset, set her hands on lap. After a moment of consideration, she decided on crossing her legs.

Satisfied, she glanced up.

Vader was watching her, a half smirk appearing on his face, before snorting softly through his nose as he turned back forward.

Palpatine stared at her superiorly with an raised eyebrow.

Tarkin had a finger over his upper lip, looking like he was contemplating the reason of her existence.

Paddit was absolutely oblivious, his gaze focused on the same woman from earlier.

Clearing her throat, she turned forward.

How had she not before? Hers was a spot of absolute glory. She could behold everything. The entire ballroom was spread for her to enjoy. She wasn't nearly as high up as she had been on the stairs, but yet and still, it was incomparable. No doubt Palpatine had it made suited to fit his ego, but she just appreciated the view.

Besides, now she couldn't see the Empire's emblem.

He was tired.

He was hungry.

And he hurt.

Obi-Wan looked up, his exhausted grey-turquoise eyes fixed on the door in front of him.

Today had been draining. First, he found that the place where he had landed had been on the complete opposite side of the planet. Then, he had to walk a long way until he found fair public transport, of which riding on and constant stops saw three-quarters of his day. Next, he had sent a message to Padmé and waited and gross amout of time for her to respond before he decided to wander into dangerous territory: The Five Hundred Republica, only to find her gone, apparently to some Gala, and if that wasn't enough, it was being hosted in Vader's honor.

It was suicidal to go, but, staying on Imperial Center overnight was equally detrimental.

So, after a long process of scrambling up a disguise, and booking and hotel to change and freshen up in, he was forced to go.

Now, standing in front of the doors, he cloaked his presence and entered.

A Jedi was here.

Inside.

He felt it the moment before it vanished.

Kenobi.

He glanced to the side from the corner of his eyes. From the way Vader tensed, he felt it too.

The brink was here.

It was going to happen.

His scalp tingled.

Vader stood.

Palpatine didn't move.

Because, no matter how tense Vader became, and how tight the Force got, he would be unmovable, unruffled, and unchallengeable.

Vader's lightsaber ignited.

Palpatine didn't move.

Padmé saw it the second it before it happened. He stood, his hand going to his lightsaber.

Time slowed.

It ignited, glowing bright red.

She didn't know what she expected him to do, go berserk on the room and slaughter everyone in it. But no, instead, he turned.

In a single stroke, Palpatine's head fell to the ground.

Dead, in less than two seconds.

Horror.

The body sat, still in it's place.

Unmovable, unruffled, and challenged and defeated.

Vader placed his hand on the fresh corpse's shoulder, dismissively pushing it down out of it's seat.

Resume.

Paddit and Tarkin jumped up in shock, while Padmé remained seated in shock, not processing what just took place.

Vader simply stared down at it a moment, before he placed his heel on the body's back, and kicked it. It rolled, falling down the steps.

Padmé stood.

She only watched in silence as Vader turned to her, and picked her up. She let him, her mind reeling in shock as she rested her hands on his forearms.

Then, he sat down in the Emperor's seat, her in his lap. He slid his arm around her stomach, pulling her close and trapping her.

Then it suddenly dawned on her what happened.

Vader had killed his Master.

Vader had taken his Master's seat.

Vader...was now Emperor.

"Does this fulfill your crush Senator?"

 **A/N: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! GIVE ME COMMENTS. NEED COMMENTS. Btw, if you are going to say the corsets are not comfy, then allow me to tell you that I have one, and it is awesome. You get great back support, it monitors overeating (because honey, you can't eat much wearing that, which is good because I usually overeat.), and, it helps give a good figure. Hello curvy.**

 **xx,**

 **Christina.**

 **Fun Fact: The only reason this chapter took so long was because I was lazy, and the internet was out of whack the last few days and wouldn't let me update. *sheepish smile* (give me comments.)**

 **Word Count: 8456 *bows* (again, thank you, thank you, thank you very much. Comments!)**


	19. XVI: Travel Companions And Unresponsive

**A/N: Enjoy!**

 _The rest of the evening was a blur._

Paddit and Tarkin soon resumed their places after a moment of shock. The Imperials were first to recover, and, after the original surprise, were very casual and seemingly pleased with the transition. She honestly didn't know what expression was on her face all night, but she had to guess it must have been a blank look of detachment.

How had she looked to everyone? What did they this when they saw her? First she arrived with Vader, then he killed his Master in the middle of a gala, then, he and sat down. In the Emperor's seat. With her on his lap.

She vaguely wondered how long he had planned that sudden move that Palpatine oddly didn't notice.

It had felt...different to sit on his lap. He was firm, but far from uncomfortable. His hands on her waist was reassuring, but she hardly noticed. She must have been offered food at some point, but she honestly couldn't recall eating.

She hadn't spoken to Vader after that, except once. Or anyone else, for that matter.

"Vader."

"Hm?"

"Is Skywalker...an Imperial?" She didn't know why she'd asked that. Instead of the many things she could have said, her mind still hadn't processed the fact that Palpatine was dead.

"Yes."

"Then why isn't he here?"

"He is."

"Why don't I see him?"

"He's always there Amidala. You must learn where to find him."

"But I don't see him."

Vader exhaled amusedly. "Looks can be deceiving."

"That's different for you, though. Easy for you to say. I know I'd recognize his eyes. I know it." She didn't even know what she was even saying, her mouth was just speaking, her brain still stuck.

"Perhaps." His arm tightened around her waist. "Perhaps..."

She did remember something, that in retrospect was rather odd. When she had went with him back home after the gala, and when she was back in the same fireplace room, he had plucked out every hairpin and rubber-band from her hair until it was completely down.

She even think she offered any resistance, just stared down at the floor listlessly, as though she wasn't supposed to look at him. His fingers had laced themselves in her hair and he had titled her face up to look at him. She felt numb when his surprisingly soft lips pressed agains her forehead, and one thought not of her own went through her mind.

Goodnight, Senator.

He'd left her after that, turning away into darkness and never returning, and she'd watched after him with her hand on her forehead, her expression wide-eyed and clueless.

Paddit had come in, in a few seconds later, and had escorted her back to her apartment, and his face said that he thought her a rather strange and fascinating creature that may be out of her mind if the fact that she just sat there with a hand on her forehead and no thoughts in her wide eyes was anything to tell.

When she arrived home, she remembered walking past her handmaidens in a daze then shutting herself up in her room.

Water streamed down her face, tracing rivulets down her body. It turned her her smooth, wavy hair from her braid to a stream of silky brown, splayed around her shoulders, drips hanging from the tips. It clung to her eyelashes and blurred her vision, but she hardly noticed. It tasted her lips and dripped from her chin, ran over the contours of her body. The water was warm, but goosebumps still covered her flesh. Her hand stayed on her forehead.

She braided her hair without thought, here eyes staring into her own in the mirror mindlessly.

She didn't give thought to what nightgown she wore, she simply put it on and went to bed.

After a moment, her hand returned, touching the sport he had kissed her.

It burned.

She laid awake nearly hour into the night, staring blankly at the ceiling, her hand on her forehead.

* * *

Of one of the things he had expected Vader to do, was attack him.

But he hadn't, instead, turning on his master and lopping his head off.

He had not expected that.

Perhaps his master hadn't either.

Maybe he was a distraction to make Palpatine think that Vader was going to come after him, when the entire time had intended the murder of his Master.

Obi-Wan only just glimpsed this part, before immediately turning to leave. It might be better to leave and find Padmé tomorrow, anyhow, after all.

* * *

There was a glow around the rim of the Coruscant skyline, the sun only a hour from being seen. The sky was an canvas of orange-purple; a beautiful blend of of perfect paints. Smoke rose in the air from several industrial buildings. The streets were fairly empty, but would soon fill again with citizens. Foggy, the air was chilly and crisp.

Sleep.

Soft breezes lifted and filled the curtains, blowing them in and filling them like the masts of and old-time historical ships. The cool morning air drifted over her skin, cooling it and causing in occasional flick of her hair. Goosebumps rose along the exposed skin of her shoulders and back. Her mouth was parted, soft, almost inaudible snores came from her lips, more like deep breaths. Her eyes were closed, her face completely relaxed and peaceful. The early morning light was pale white, as though heaven put a filter on it's lens, and it made her skin appear lighter than usual. The sheer, thin material of her nearly transparent nightgown did little to warm her, and every few minutes, she shivered, only half covered by her blanket.

Something touched her shoulder, pulling her up in a firm grip, but not quite shaking her. She let out a little moan, her head going to the side as her body naturally craved for the mattress.

 _"Amidala."_

His voice. Soft, but firm. His voice was beautiful, so beautiful... _and so was sleep..._

"Senator." His voice was spoken with more urgency now and a hint of annoyance. But despite the biting tone, all her non-functioning brain could think was how sexy his voice sounded... _and how very attractive the thought of sleep was was..._

There was a sigh, and she was suddenly leaning back against soft pillows again... _and even more soft on the mind was the thought of sleep..._

Awareness came slow to her.

Cool air drifted through the window again, eliciting a shiver.

She never opened a window...

Her eyes opened once, her view directly on her dresser, and the person rummaging through her drawers soundlessly.

Her eyes closed.

Realization took much longer.

Three minutes later, her eyes opened again slowly and carefully.

He was here.

In her room.

In her _bedroom_.

Looking through _her_ drawers.

She turned on her side, propping herself up with her arm, and she watched him sleepily.

He was wearing something different today, instead of black, it was a mix of black and brown. His shirt and pants were of a dark brown consistency, while the outer layer of leather was black, like his boots. His belt was leather as well, and the entire style of reminded her strongly of the Jedi's traditional clothing, save the fact that it was dark, a complete opposite of Jedi's normal wear. It suddenly struck her she'd never seen him save once without his robe on, at the time when he'd reacted violently, only this time the layered tones were...lighter.

Now she could truly appreciate his figure.

Long legs, trim waist, and broad shoulders, he was a picture. His body wasn't like the statues of male perfection, for they sported extra skin and several lumps that made them interesting to look at, seeing a realistic view much appreciated. But by just looking at Skywalker, 'extra skin' seemed foreign to his body. There wasn't any space for it, and she couldn't possibly imagine it on him.

But at the same, despite what she already suspected, she still had an curious urge to find out more.

The lines between control even if it was mental and attraction somehow seemed to have blurred so much, she didn't know when she had crossed it. She had determined to keep him at arms length even in her mind, and yet somehow she really wanted to see if his tan covered all of him, which was natural, as he was an attractive male specimen, and she had eyes. But at some point she must have forgotten how she was supposed to ignore the particular fact of him being unusually good-looking and think no more of it, thus the ogling.

But friends generally noticed when the aforementioned person had a really nice butt right? Right?

She really did not need to think about that.

What was he doing in her room anyway?

Sleepily, she glanced back at the window. She wasn't sure how okay she was with the idea that he apparently had broken into rooms before, and probably not to give friendly greetings.

She wasn't sure how she was supposed to be 'okay' with it at all.

Yet she mentally accepted it as true, despite what she'd rather believe, determined to ignore it so long as she didn't know exactly who, when, what or why.

How long would it take for the penny to drop? Blissful ignorance could only be maintained for a short time before it was exposed.

She rued the day.

Foggy brained and desperately tired, she turned to look at the clock. It was still dark and what time was it..?

0400!?

What in earth was he - yawn.

Turning from her dresser, he went to her closet, opening it, and stared.

And stared.

And stared.

He quietly cleared his throat, then resumed staring.

After quite a long time of more staring, he began removing certain things from it.

Her tired eyes closed, the task of staying awake unbearable.

A few seconds, then I'll have the energy to confront him...

He didn't make a sound, but she heard the quiet movement of her clothes being taken out, and the soft scrape of her drawer opening.

Then, suddenly she didn't.

Slowly her eyes opened to she him standing absolutely still, his gaze on something in his hand.

That something was small, black and lacy.

An thong.

She sat up a bit more. _Ahem. Well_.

He seemed completely transfixed, looking at it as though he never expected it to exist in her wardrobe. His brow was furrowed slightly, and she caught a glint in his eyes. Pure unaltered yellow adorned his irises, like spun honey and liquid gold. His full lips were parted slightly, and he seemed to have frozen.

Never once removing his eyes from the them he carried them over to her closet, placing them in a rather large black travel bag.

 _What was he doing?_

She watched him pick out a few more outfits out of her closet, until the bag was completely filled with clothes, and zipped it, then straightened, and looked at something with such displeasure unlike anything she'd ever seen.

It took her a few moments to realize he was looking at her. And with such disapproval, as though she had done something to him, a look on him that had never been directed at her before.

She blinked.

He stalked over to her soundlessly until he was right above her, staring down at her with an inscrutable look in his now-blue eyes. She stared back, not feeling the need to speak yet, and him likewise.

Padmé fully wondered what she looked like. Her loose braid from list night was probably messy now, and she felt tendrils of her hair on her face and along her neck. Her deep brown eyes probably reflected her exhaustion. Her head propped up on one arm, and her nightgown half on, she felt oddly vulnerable, but far from uncomfortable. She didn't offer any explanation or make any move, he was in her room without permission, and if he had problem, he could speak.

"Is something wrong with your chrono?"

She twisted, pushing herself up with her hands and sitting up. After rearranging her pillows, she slowly scooted back until she was comfortable, so she was in a reclining position. Crossing her fingers diplomatically over her stomach, she spoke. "What?"

"You said to meet first thing in the morning and you're still in bed." His eyes were narrowed and his voice was strongly annoyed now.

It took a while for his words to register, but when they did..."Oh yes, we're going back to Naboo today, right, I remember."

"You're still in bed."

Padmé, not paying attention to his past statement suddenly cut in, her eyes showing her confusion. "You were supposed to meet me at the hanger."

"I did go to the hanger."

"When?"

"0400."

Padmé stared at him a long, long time before realization dawned on her. "Midnight?!"

Exasperation was clear on his face now. "Yes."

"Why?"

"You told me to meet you first thing in the morning. So, I arrived at the hanger at 0100, and was forced to wait for at least three-and-a-half hours. And, when I arrive, I find you asleep and yet to be ready." He was definitely pissed now. It was strange because she'd never seen anger on him before. Especially at her.

"Hey, Skywalker?" He walked away from her, probably to search for...what?

"Yes, Amidala?"

"You do know the idiom 'first thing in the morning' is generally interpreted to mean around 0700, right?" Yawning again, She flung the blanket back, shifting forward until she was at the end of her bed, and stuck her feet into her fluffy sandals. Standing, she stretched in a rather undignified way, quite strong in a resemblance of an old man cracking his back, then headed to the 'fresher.

"I don't believe in 'general interpretations'."

Of course he didn't.

"I'm going to take a shower, and then we can go, an-"

"Don't. You took a shower yesterday right?"

"Yes, but I'm still..."

"You've slept only four hours Amidala, you're not dirty-squandering, impractical, unreasonable, difficult, overthinking women." He huffed the last part under his breath.

Padmé bristled, but decided not to humor his last remark. Another thought popped in into her mind. "How did you know what time I went to bed?"

He paused, processing the sudden three-hundred and sixty degree turn the conversation seemed to have taken. "You were last at a ball approaching 1200. Estimating the time it took you to get home, as you rather tired, it would be around... three quarters of an hour, or 1245."

"Wait...you know about the ball?"

"Mmhm."

"Do you know about...um...that?"

"Amidala, everyone knows about that. In fact-" He snatched a datapad from her desk, and flicking through it momentarily, tossed it carelessly towards her. "Read it."

She caught it with one hand midair, glaring balefully at his back, his apparently lack of consideration annoying her.

 _DEAR, FUTURE EMPRESS_

 _...QUESTIONS ARE RAISED CONCERNING THE SENATOR AMIDALA'S LACK OF SURPRISE AT THE RECENT TRANSFER OF GALACTIC POWER. The shocking event that took place last night generated several responses, but one of the greatest was of the people present, especially of one very respected young female senator: Padmé Amidala. After the event, footage and witnesses tell of absolute chaos and frozen terror. But of the people present, only one didn't seem surprised._

 _Senator Amidala's recent questioning of her loyalty to the Empire has now been completely eliminated. And although she has always been a strong opposer of the Empire, it seem to be now that she has reconciled herself with it. At the even of the Gala that was held in Lord Vader's honor last night, for the first time since Vader ever was introduced into society, this time, he came with a date, the aforementioned Senato who appeared very calm and rather proud to be presented in such a way._

 _It was said and recorded that during straightforward 'removal' of the late Emperor, Sheev Palpatine, the Senator had watched with a face blank and listless. The red cherry on top was when Vader went to claim his former superior's place, he took her with him, placing her on his lap in front of everyone. She displayed an total lack of resistance the entire time, which leaves one to debate wether or not she was in on the scheme._

 _There are several different scenarios concerning her relationship with Vader. Was she a friend, who, despite their differences have united to create a stir just for fun? Or is it something deeper?_

 _The opinion of Sentor Manse of the Chazwa system is one to consider. 'To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if it came out that they were in some kind of hidden relationship. It'd make a really good story really, she hates the Empire, he put and end to the Republic. And yet, they somehow they like each other. And then there's the possibility that she might be secret mistress of his, or have this love-hate enemies-with-benefits thing. For all we know, there may be wedding bells ahead. I mean, if there's one thing that Padmé Amidala has proven is that she's fearless." Manse was at the event, and witnessed the execution. He described it as 'just unlike anything else, cold, terrifying.'_

 _Audiences everywhere have adopted the idea, inspiring mixed views. Because of Vader's former lack of known attention to women, and her lack of relationships and the comfort levels displayed, many are leaning to the view of a long-term affair, as a lover or mistress, and her introduction as his date seems like an announcement._

 _Could it be that since to loss of his master Vader has decided to reveal his attentions? Can we expect a new empress?_

It shattered, the sound failing to wake her from her daze. She stared blankly at the wall, her eyes unfocused. "Vader..."

"Yes?"

"Vader..."

"What is it?"

"Vader. He did this."

"I-He? Oh yes, I mean," he stumbled slightly, in a very uncharacteristic way, before he cleared his throat. "He did, brilliant idea, isn't it?"

"I did this."

"Yes, you did, so don't blame me."

"What?" Padmé turned to him suddenly, his words not making sense. "Why would I blame you?"

"Um..." His face was inscrutable again as he looked at her, brows furrowed, his nose wrinkled slightly, his deep blue eyes narrowed and his reddened plump bottom lip between his teeth. That expression was so entirely attractive she momentarily forgot what her question was. "That's right, why would you blame me?" He turned back to her drawer, to his work.

Padmé decided to ignore him, trying to sort the entire situation in her mind.

Katus was gone.

Palpatine was dead.

Vader was Emperor.

She was now thought to be the future empress.

This was not what she had planned, at all. Her 'publicity scheme,' foiled by Palpatine, was to make sure that she wasn't going to be uprooted or giving cause for doubt as rebel had backfired against herself, and Palpatine as well.

She didn't know how to feel about it at all. She felt no remorse for her happiness of Palpatine's 'removal,' but at the same time, were they in a worse state now that Vader had claimed leadership over the galaxy?

"You need to get ready. We're leaving in three minutes."

"At 0400?" Did he even know when normal people woke up?

"0426, Senator, try to keep up."

Padmé managed a wry smile.

Of course he didn't.

* * *

 _A few hours ago..._

 _"How?"_

 _Placid blue eyes stared back at him in silence. The churning torrent of blue was gone, peace left behind. There was no anger, no fire. Just, calm._

 _The whirlwind was had stopped, for now._

 _Vader had finally reached what always had escaped him, what had been denied him his whole life: freedom. There would be no more beatings, no more unfair discipline, no more submission, and no more pain for him in this life. He'd gone through the worst, and now he was done, never to go back. He was finally his own master, and despite him always seeming to be in control, it was the first time he ever truly and completely was._

 _Vader had been above all, but in his heart, he knew what he was, and what he always he'd been, a slave._

 _No one could celebrate Palpatine's death to the extent he could, because for him, it was removal of a bondage he'd been in his whole life. And despite the blank iciness most people thought existed in Vader's mind, he was actually celebrating, quietly and alone._

 _Jāuhn could never know what that felt like._

 _He supposed it was complete liberation, but he knew he hadn't even scratched the surface. He'd never been mistreated, or used or forced to do things he didn't want to. He'd grown up in a fairly privileged home, and never had a hand raised to him._

 _He'd always considered Vader as one with the ability to make anything within his reach, never realizing that he may have been the more privileged one. To take someone's freedom...someone right to life or natural entitlement to independent decision...what kind of person does that?_

 _Vader was a Sith, a user of the the dark side. A killer, fighter quite skilled at what he did. He could wipe out an entire battlefield by himself, could terrify the strongest of characters. But above all, he was a human. A human being who had suffered more than he could ever imagine, and he suddenly felt like he never understood that nearly enough._

 _And now, he was his own person, for the first time in his life._

 _And although he didn't know what Vader thought and could never imagine how it felt, he suspected that behind that calm, this was singularly the only good thing this unfair and cruel Galaxy had ever done for him, and simultaneously the greatest gift he could ever been given._

 _He could never hope to even begin to fathom what he had always taken for granted, what most people took for granted._

 _And now, he finally had found peace, and for the first time, Jāuhn caught a glimpse of Vader as the young man looking for his freedom, and finally finding it._

 _But he wanted to hear it from Vader himself._

 _"How did you do it?"_

 _He and finally, he spoke._

 _"He was going to kill me, you know." The words were soft and quiet, without anger, or any emotion besides calm acceptance. "As soon as the rebellion was destroyed, he expected me to become unpredictable and challenge him. He wanted to eliminate me before I had the chance. He knew I would wait until I had defeated the rebellion and soaked up every bit of knowledge he had in him." Vader exhaled softly, looking away from Jāuhn to place far off in the distance, eyes unfocused. "He was arrogant enough to believe that he held enough information to keep me under him until after the end of the rebellion."_

 _Jāuhn nodded. "So he-"_

 _"He was a fool." The ice in his eyes cut in Jāuhn's memory, more then the tone of his voice. Never would he forget the coldness in them, unlike anything he'd ever seen, and it chilled him down to his core. Those eyes had power beyond any words he could have said. "He truly believed that I'd wait until then, when I knew what he was planning, hoping for me to take time afterwards to plan out his death, not thinking me capable of planning it for years in advance, despite the 'distraction.' As for whatever measly information he had, if it can be learned from him, can it not be found in the Sith holocrons? In the archives? What more could he offer me?"_

 _"How long..?_

 _"Since he told of his plans of the Gala. A public place, in full view of influential characters, with live footage and large publicity, and a present member of the rebellion. I knew that the time had come, and I had to wait until right moment."_

 _He paused, growing distant again. "There was a Jedi there...Kenobi. Palpatine was waiting for the something to happen, to reach the end. He expected me to break the tension somehow, and apparently by eliminating the Jedi. It was the greatest opportunity I could possibly have, especially considering that he wasn't in the least perturbed by what he 'knew' I intended to do. He never realized that his death was the end."_

 _Jāuhn stared at him in silent concentration, not saying a word. For the first time since he'd known Vader, he was talking of his own accord, and now he was determined to listen._

 _"I've learned something from this Jāuhn, something that I don't think I will ever forget. Predicting the unpredictable, does not exist. Life is so entirely unpredictable, that understanding what is the true region of unpredictably that is most likely to befall us is beyond us. Anything that you cannot expect is quite a large number of things, and try as we may, we can never truly tell what group of the unknown may be thrown at us. We are just beings, with limits, and believing a sure prediction is the road to failure. The only way to survive in this perilous labyrinth they call life, is to be always be prepared."_

 _Jāuhn carefully considered what he was saying, working through it in his mind. "So...the statement 'predict the unpredictable' is utterly useless because the sate of unpredictably is so entirely unpredictable that one can not possibly predict it, or even the unlikely, or the unpredictable if you will, because it's so unpredictable that it could even be predictable?"_

 _Vader cocked his head to the side, amusement at his deduction underlying in his now softer gaze. "Exactly."_

 _Jāuhn sat back, humor dancing in his dark eyes. "You, milord, are a very unique person."_

 _Vader nodded graciously, his blue eyes filled with a rare light humor of their own. "Your welcome."_

* * *

A soft beeping was calling him to the light he so desperately wanted to hide from. He reached deeper into darkness, floating in its deeper depths. There was nothing to hold on to, the more he fought, the louder the sound became. He turned at the last minute, looking above.

It was a mistake.

It was like water, but there no fish, no plants or waves. Yet he was in it, and he could float and swim. Instead of blue, it was black. He could see deeper depths beneath him frowning darker that where he was by the light behind him. But that turn had put his face to the light, and his the moment he saw it, it captured him, dragging him away from the comforting confines to the surface, rocketing him to the reddish light above.

And he was encompassed in light, everything turning white within a few nanoseconds.

The light blinked, closing over the forceful penetrative light that cut through the darkness. It slowly opened again, slimmer than before, a soft groan emitting from nearby.

Obi-Wan's eyes opened, then closed again the morning light causing him to groan. He opened his eyes again, this time squinting. Rolling onto his stomach he looked around, his brows furrowed. His hair fell over his forehead and he brushed it back with his hand, exposing sharp turquoise-gray eyes. He briefly scratched his jaw, yawning once.

Soft grayish turquoise eyes blessed the room, fairly light blond eyebrows along them. A neatly trimmed beard that matched the ginger tone of his hair was ruffled oddly in way that only sleep could have produced. His usually neat hair was now colossal.

Since he concluded that the beeping stopped, he was about to attempt to sleep when it started up again.

Blast that cursed kriffing...

He finally got out of bed, covering himself in his robe, as walked over to his problematic comm., accepting the incoming video call.

"Yes?"

"Thank the force." Relief was evident on the holographic image of Bail Organa's face. "I thought I may not have got to you in time. Master Kenobi, you must abandon your mission and turn back immediately."

Alertness seared through him. "Why, what's happened?"

"Going to the Senator won't help. She's in league with the Empire. I'm just glad I got to you before you arrived."

Obi-Wan blinked. "Senator Amidala?" Who's with the empire?

"Yes, I know. We trusted her too. I didn't want to believe it, but we have proof. The entire rebellion is in an uproar, and-"

"Padmé left the rebellion?" Impossible. Unheard of.

"Not left. Apparently she's been been sending them information back and forth." Bail seemed crushed by the revelation. "She was seen only a few hours ago with Vader. She's been working for him...and it's in the news as well. The entire galaxy is reeling."

Seen? This was too much to process such a story. Padmé hated Vader, she would never work for him. Who started even such a ludicrously story? "I don't believe it."

"I didn't want to either, but there are eyewitnesses."

"What eyewitnesses?" People created propaganda all the time, just for money, and he didn't trust it for a second.

"It was at a ball, well in view of everyone present. They also have proof that she went to his home with him." Bail sighed, running his hands over his face. "What's there to debate?"

Obi-Wan leaned back, stroking his beard, a troubled look on his face. Something was amiss about this. Padmé would never, ever do...that. Somehow, she'd been framed, or put up to it, to make it seem like she had joined the Empire. It didn't make sense otherwise. "I don't believe this. Tell everyone not to worry. I'm going to investigate myself. I'll find out."

Bail looked in unsure. "You're going after her? But what if-?"

"Yes. Tell the alliance not to worry. I'll get to the bottom of this, and find out who's behind it."

"You mean that it's not true?" The senator's voice suddenly switched to careful.

"Of course not. I'll work it out, and you calm down everyone else."

Bail brightened a little, Obi-Wan's faith stirring him on. "Of course. It'll make things lest bittersweet and soften the morning."

"Bittersweet?"

"Well, after Palpatine's death, of course."

Obi-Wan froze, the tiny portion of the event he saw flooding back to him.

Oh, yes.

He'd forgotten that.

Bittersweet was truly the only way to describe it. On one hand, Palpatine was dead. On the other, Vader was emperor. He'd never really considered it happening that way. Vader going first might have been better, so Palpatine would have less defense. Or both in one shot. With Vader in control, it could either go uphill or downhill. Was Vader even capable of handling the empire at large? The tables could always turn in their favor by bad management. He may have brawn, but the capability to handle the galaxy may have been his master's strongpoint. Then again, Vader was cunning. He had no use for debate. He lived on unquestioned authority. Since he would never spend time in the senate, and probably wouldn't trust anyone else with the position, he would probably eliminate it altogether.

That would be very, very bad.

Was he 'happy' that Palpatine was dead?

Yes.

Were they better off now than before?

Maybe?

Bail sighed again. "I don't know how to feel. On one hand, now we have only on Sith to deal wth. On the other, Vader now has complete control."

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement.

"But are you sure that its the right thing to do? Vader could be waiting for you if-"

"I'm going. And if I am forced to confront Vader, I know what I must do or die trying."

Bail nodded. "May the force be with you, Master Kenobi."

* * *

He had been here.

He had decided to go to Padmé's apartment early to get in before anyone would think of visiting, but apparently, someone had been there, and that someone happened to reek of Sith and imperial. He couldn't sense him in the lift, but he could feel it near her floor. He wasn't present, but Obiwant could practically feel him (oh wait, he could), like a dark swirl of clouds around it, whispering ghostly tremors around it. And Obi-Wan was just coming here at 2445, so for him to feel so strongly, he had to have been here only a half an hour ago, give or take.

Around...2400.

What in the blazes was Vader doing at Padmé's apartment at 0400? According to everyone in the galaxy, there was quite a few things he could be doing that Obi-Wan refused to believe. Vader wasn't capable or any of those things.

Right?

It was everywhere.

On signs, on the holos, in the news, everywhere.

DEAR FUTURE EMPRESS

In all of Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi's days, the stewjon Master had never seen so many posters of the same image. Now in the lift to Padmé's floor, he took a chance to look over the entire city.

"Dear Force..."

The doors opened with a tiny ping, and he abruptly pulled from his thoughts. He looked up, to be greeted Rabé, standing in front of him in her bathrobe, and expression of relief, disappointment, and worry on her face. She wordlessly ushered him inside, pulling him to the main living area. "Rabé, is everything al-"

"Padmé is missing."

Ice flooded his veins. To many shoking statements were hitting at once, and he couldn't process them all at once.

Palpatine was dead.

Vader was emperor.

The rebellion thought that Padmé had been playing a double agent.

The galaxy thought that Padmé is going to become empress.

Vader had been her apartment a few minutes ago.

Padmé was missing.

Immediate deduction: either Vader has framed her and now has kidnapped her to force information from her, Vader has kidnapped her to force her to become his empress, Vader was walking around her apartment and left, and Padmé decided to take an early morning shopping trip or - facts.

Calming his racing mind, he placed his hands on Rabé's shoulders, to stop the pacing she had begun. "Tell me everything that happened from the beginning."

She nodded, breathing deeply. "I woke up really early to go to the bathroom, and stopped to get a snack,when I saw Padmé's door was open. I went in, and she wasn't in there, just the window was open, so I looked around some more, and when I couldn't find her I woke up the rest of the house. She always tells someone when she leaves so we know, but apparently no one knew. We've found nothing, no note, or message. We tried to comm, but we didn't get an answer and the others went to go look for her a few minutes ago and I'm supposed to wait here an-"

"Are her clothes gone?"

"A few, but she didn't take any travel bag, and she probably would have told us about any travel plans."

Obi-Wan released her, mulling over the information in his head.

"She was acting really strange last night too, come to think about it..."

"Strange, how?"

"When she came back and tried to ask her how it was, she just pushed past, and she looked really dazed. She had her hand on her forehead too. I don't know if she had a headache or was just shaken up, but it seemed the latter, which is understandable considering what the holonet is saying right now..."

Vader was all over the apartment, his aura so strong he was seconds from gagging. He could see on the walls and embedded in every surface. It was like thick black smoke, covering every surface, fogging the ground, climbing the walls, and rolling off the counters. Spay smell-goods, but it had seeped into the very structure. He had no doubt it was deliberate, Vader never announced himself this way unless he wanted Obi-Wan to sense him, and he must have expected Obi-Wan's visit. The thought filled him with even more unease. Vader knew he was coming, and wanted Obi-Wan to know that he was here, or had been here.

And that he took Padmé.

Trap?

But why would he take her stuff?

Obi-Wan kept his senses alert, walking towards the bedroom, where the presence was strongest. There was so many things wrong with that that he didn't even want to consider. He searched the room while Rabé paced, but couldn't seem to find anything, when something red caught his eye.

It was a box. A slim black box. There was nothing shocking about that, it was a fairly normal expensive box, with a matte finish, and the red designer marking the middle a embossed and glossy.

Just as well was the large Imperial mark around that.

He picked it up, opening it to find it empty. "Rabé, what is this?"

"It was a dress...a gift from Vader. He sent it to her to wear to the ball...why?"

Obi-Wan looked her, eyebrows raised in alarm. Vader had been sending Padmé gifts? How long had he been hinting at his interest in her? "When!?"

"The day before yesterday. Obi-Wan, what's going on?"

Vader was all over this.

He needed to get to Padmé, and the only way was to follow them. Vader wanted a chase, well, now he would have it. He just needed to know where to start...

Rabé started pacing.

Where would he take her? He doubted he would pack her clothes for a stroll around Coruscant, but why take her clothes at all? And how would he-

Lightbulb.

"Rabé, do you know most of the clothes Padmé wears?"

Rabé blinked. "Yes, but-"

"Can you tell me what's missing?"

Rabé nodded. "I can vaguely, but why do you need to know?"

"Because I need to know were Vader took her."

 **A/N: So, there you go. This chapter only took so long because there was a part in it that I didn't like, and I kept trying to fix it, so I deleted the whole chapter and started over, but still wasn't content. After I just decided to remake the scene in a different setting, I deleted it again, then realized it was never really necessary considering that already have over six thousand words, which is awesome since I thought it'd only be around four thousand. There was also going to be a Slevla scene that I took out. Anyway...yeah, so, Padmé and Skywalker have set off, Obi-Wan's close in tow...there's going to be her family too, particularly Sola. This is gonna be fun. I got really emotional when writing about Jāuhn and Vader, idk man.**

 **Some of you may wonder how I get my inspiration, and how did I work out my story's future. The answer is my sister LilyCarol, a StarWars lover and fan fiction writer. She's always been my coach and sometimes proof-reader, and brought out the humorous side of this story. My sister has always been the writer in my family, and shortly after we learned about fan fiction, we started fangirling. We have been doing it for years, so when I thought of this story, and was searching for ideas, we starting talking, and she's helped me figure it out. My sister doesn't have any StarWars story's on Wattpad, but she has Vanished, another story we fangirled on, which will be linked in her Wattpad description.**

 **What is Vanished about? (I should really do a tag book...)**

 **The fireside scene at Varykino went a little different, ultimately sending Anakin to his death. Three years later, Padmé, Obi-Wan, and Satine crash onto a mysterious planet ruled by a still more mysterious man with a hood called The Master.**

 **I know, I know. My sister is awesome.**

 **xx,**

 **Christy.**

 **Fun Fact: Satine's going to be involved soon.**

 **Word Count (Dooku): 6691**


	20. XVII: Ships, Low Morals And Imperialism

**A/N: Hi.**

Awe.

Her eyes surveyed the hanger surrounding her with intent interest. The foreign and peculiar sound of whirring, the harsh grind of the saw, and the sharp hiss of the steam all filled her ears. Sparks skidded across the floor briefly, the sound like loud sparklers, before fading out again. The bare, framework of ceiling rose high above her. The unpleasant smell of burning metal and melting rubber, and the oddly pleasing smell of gasoline and the foreign smell of grease floated to her nose. Strange sights, smells, sounds and feels encompassed her all at once, she she hardly knew how to handle it all.

They were said to be deep and mesmerizing, but at the moment they were filled with almost childlike wonder. Her soft brown irises examined the building, taking in the experience. Her small ears and nose had been reddened by the cold and ached slightly, but she hardly noticed. Her soft lips were parted and took on the shape of an O. Her hair, being without ' _time_ ' had been left in it's messy braid, and now even more of it had fallen out of it's original style. Her big, fur trimmed robe covered her nightgown which she still wore, since she didn't have ' _time_ ' and was ' _already late_ ,' and her shoes were simple slippers.

Senator Padmé Amidala had led a rather privileged life under the crown, and later as a senator. She'd always had the finest, the nicest of things. She had her own private hanger on Naboo, and another on Coruscant. She'd never been in a public hanger more than twice before in her life, even a nice one like this, so it was all unfamiliar. But being very privileged didn't make her spoiled. Instead, she was fairly new to this.

And oddly enough, she liked it.

He didn't pause to take a second glance, let alone a first at the commotion around him. He simply walked, focusing on the task ahead. She had originally suggested that the took her ship, but he had interjected, saying that he knew a way to get there twice as fast, which was apparently why they were in a public hanger.

It was odd, though. A public hanger? She honestly didn't know if he didn't have his own, or he wanted it in a place that was far from related to him.

A dark cloud settled over her head, completely debunking her previously excited and energetic mood.

It wasn't fair.

He life was like an open book to him, and she knew absolutely nothing about who he was, or _what_ he was, although she had an unpleasant vague idea. Didn't she deserve that privilege to know who she was taking with her to Naboo? Why didn't he want her to know? Did he not trust her? Or was she simply to enjoy a one-way friendship?

Perhaps it wasn't about her at all. Maybe he wasn't at liberty to speak, or was ashamed of something. She looked over at him, confidently walking in front of her in his long stride, causing her to struggle to keep up.

As if.

It was more likely a faith issue. He didn't feel like she was trustworthy.

Well _._

Her eyes flicked towards the shuttle they were approaching.

Tri-winged, with one large one in the middle like a dorsal fin, it was a lot bigger up close. The other two were folded up on the sides, pointing inwards. It was fairly new from what she could tell, it the smooth finish and the lack of scratches was anything to tell. But the true interesting thing was that it was black. And that it had a large red Imperialist mark on it.

This was a ship from Vader's personal fleet.

She slowed, her eyes darting to Skywalker to see if this was the ship he was intending to use.

The ramp opened, hissing blowing out from underneath.

He headed straight towards it.

"Hey, Skywalker wait." She sped up, taking hold of his left forearm. "Wait. Where's um...where's our um...the ship?"

She'd noticed something. The moment she'd touched him, he'd tensed, then looked down at her a relaxed. It was a transition that lasted less than a second, but she caught it.

 _Well_.

Maybe he wasn't used to being touched? That was possible. But he relaxed immediately and that meant...what?

She wasn't a threat.

 _Yay?_

Another strange thing caught her attention. He was wearing only one glove today, on his right arm. _Curious_.

He eyed her with an odd expression in his oceanic blue eyes, and interesting mix of amusement and interest. "The ST 321 unit."

Padmé turned and looked around the hanger in confusion. After a few minutes she turned back to him, smiling brightly.

She'd never been into ships, or their names, so him telling her that was about the same as saying one that flies, and even that might have been more specific.

He chuckled softly, apparently noticing her lack of recognition, before continuing towards the ship. Padmé stopped him again. "It's from Vader's fleet." Why was it in a public hanger?

"I know."

"So...you can't just use it."

"Yes, I can." _Care to expound on why?_

"Did Vader give it to you?"

"Not exactly."

Padmé huffed, her usually doormat temper beginning to flare. He somehow seemed to bring out her temper with ease. "What in the kriffing hell does 'not exactly' mean?"

"It means, I stole it."

She froze, abruptly letting go of his arm.

He stole it?

 _He_ stole it?

He stole _it?_

 _He_ stole _it?_

 _Had he lost his godda-kriffing mind!?_

 _"Listen, you half witted scruffy-looking nerf herder! I don't know about you, but I don't think that Vader takes kindly to people stealing his stuff! Or his ships!"_ She whisper-yelled at him, trying to communicate the seriousness of the crime into his thick little head. It had been once rumored that Vader to personal interest in his ships, but it wasn't confirmed. But somehow, she didn't want to find out.

Light blue, brilliant in light, his eyes contained a humor to them, a deep seated humor like he was in on a joke she would never know. If she wasn't looking at them so closely, she wouldn't immediately notice the tiny smile on those generous lips.

The bastard actually thought this was funny.

"No, he doesn't. So, I suggest we get going, yes?"

* * *

Naboo.

Home planet to both Senator Padmé Amidala and late chancellor and emperor of the Galactic Republic, Sheev Palpatine, the lush planet of Naboo was like a timeless dreamland. Waterfalls, and rolling valleys filled with flowers, the place was almost ethereal in its scenery. The small planet was a vastly civilized and quite upcoming, but held a soft homey feel, with magnificent temples and great palaces. Being without the pollution of crammed factories and vast overpopulated majorities, Naboo was quite different from the hustle of Coruscant, and far more pleasant and beautiful.

The citizens of Naboo themselves led very different lives than the ones on many core worlds such as Coruscant. Things were much more calm and peaceful, and the inhabitants spent much more time building up the community than hustling each for his own.

There were no grey clouds except when it rained, and even then it was beautiful. The one clouds that ever dared to lay on the soft blue dome that surrounded the planet were wispy ones, that made it appear the greatest canvas the Creator ever made. Naboo was truly the greatest work of art that had been made thus far, and _by_ far the most awe-inspiring. There were so many layers of beauty that the planet possessed, that listing it all would have been impossible.

But despite Naboo's greatest efforts, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi doubted that it had the power to forfeit the storm clouds to come, that dangerous whirling hole that sucked every bit of light into its fathomless depths, that storm that was Vader.

But, then again, he could be wrong, and he could be going to a place already so dark it would make no difference. He was just going with his best guess. The only problem was the minuscule factor of why Vader would take Padmé on a vacation back home...

It was the best guess he had. Who would pack light fluffy dresses for Kamino, unless you intended to expose yourself completely?

Finding transportation was difficult. There was so many problems with the fact he didn't have his starfighter. He could have been there in half the time, but no, he had to wait. Taking Padmé's ship had been about his only option. It wasn't that her ship was slow, but it was by no means anywhere as fast as his fighter. It would around two-three days for him to get there, and Vader could almost be there. Depending on how fast his ship was.

Perhaps Vader's ship wasn't fast. He could get there and stop him before he started (if he was going there).

 _Yeah_.

"How long till we get to Naboo?"

"Fourteen hours." Leaning back in his seat, the ship set on autopilot, Skywalker looked completely at home in the cockpit.

 _Smooth tanned skin, reddish lips, straight jaw, long eyelashes, distinct eyebrows, thick brown-dirty blond hair, yes, he was a very handsome man._

She studies him with admiration and a hint of melancholia. She would be friends with the one person she was relentlessly attracted to. He would be an assassin, with imperialistic traits. He would be intent to destroy every mental barrier she had and gain her trust so easily with even trying. There would be something reclusive about him, something dark and thrilling. When had that combination become her fetish?

Why was her _friend,_ the person she never would expect to like, her greatest weakness? Did he not know what he did to her? Did he try to?

She bet he did. He knew well what kind of thoughts he intentionally put in her head, and it infuriated her.

He leaned back in the seat, beating deeply through his nose, closing his eyes, his long lashes just brushing his cheeks.

After a few minutes she did the same. Silence ensued, and she took the moment to reflect on what recently happened, going all the way back to yesterday afternoon.

 _(Flashback)_

 _500 Reublica_

 _Padmé's suite,_

 _Coruscant_

 _Silver._

 _The color was not gray. Gray didn't deserve this beautiful baby's eyes, and as she stares into them for maybe the last time, she realizes how much she loves those eyes, how much she loves this child. They were so vibrant, shining metallic. There was something fascinating about eyes. They were so captivating, so interesting that they could be looked at for hours at a time. Maybe it was the was they contracted and expanded, or the way that they appeared like the deepest black pools you wanted to swim in. Maybe it was the way they shone in the light, their crispness, the intricate design. They were kaleidoscopes of unfaltering beauty._

 _But these were not ordinary. They weren't deep, rich brown like her own, or the maelstrom of blue and gold of Skywalker's crystalline irises. They were different than even his. They were striking and sharp, although round and held a baby's innocence. His eyes was his defining object. He had such soft hair, wispy to the touch. He had an adorable little ski-jump nose, that wrinkled when he laughed, and his little laugh was deadly, the sweetest sound to her ears. He had a tiny mouth, and such a small little body. But of all the tiny cute-nosed sweet laughing children, those eyes were his distinct feature._

 _She will never forget those eyes._

 _He will grow, from child to boy to a man. He will change. His voice deepens and his laugh will grow boisterous. His body won't fit in her arms any more. His hair will grow longer. So many thing would change, but she would know those eyes, like brilliant phenakites and glass shards dipped in the most blacks of ink, staining the long eyelashes that decorated them._

 _It wasn't just his eyes she loved. They were merely his most prominent accessory. But she loved him whole beyond words._

 _It was such a strange thing. He was only an baby. He didn't talk or walk. He didn't do much. He was a quiet and beautiful child, but somehow, despite how he was too young to really even begin to develop his character, his quirks and peculiarities, she loved him. It was probably one-sided. He wouldn't remember her after a few days, because he was too young to remember, and yet he had captured her heart._

 _Don't become too attached._

 _In this moment she was glad she never took her own advice. This child deserve every once of the love she could give him. And she was glad that was able to love him wholeheartedly while she had him. It was painful, but so completely worth it._

 _She will not let them fall._

 _Her little Katus would be going to a place where he would be safe, a place where he would be loved. She's not going let her selfishness destroy that, despite how her eyes stung and tears clung to her lashes, and the agony of something she cared about being ripped from her. She hugs him close one more time, savoring these last minutes she tries to focus on the fact that she knows he'll be in good hands._

 _After he husband 'ran away and disappeared' Queen Breha of Alderaan decided to adopt a child to keep her company in her now lonely life. She may have disappeared herself if she didn't have Alderaan to think of, and the senate had become too dangerous for her husband. But now with both safe, she is left alone, with no children and the lack of ability to produce them if she could. It's an comfort to know that her selfish pain is worth it for her friend's consolation in this time of loneliness. It's better knowing that someone who will hold his future._

 _So, for the last time she memorized those eyes._

 _Then, she gives him up._

 _The doors close._

 _Silent tears fall._

 _One day, if she lives, one day she may see him again, and maybe, she may have a miracle of her own._

 _ **If**_ _she lives._

 _(End of flashback)_

She doesn't cry now.

Her eyes remain shut, and the ache that gnaws a hole at her chest gapes wider. Would she ever even live to see the day she would have a husband, or a child? Or would she fall into was endless pit, fighting a battle that can't be fought?

Did it matter? Was she making a difference or just holding herself back from what she wanted, only for it to be pointless in the end? She'd always wondered, but thinking about that really made her consider. It made no difference, her thoughts. She would never forgive herself if she caved. There was never another option for her.

It was too unpredictable.

 _In fact, life_ was so unpredictable that predicting the unpredictable was not possible, because while predicting the unpredictable or the predictable it was so unpredictable it could be either.

And that, was why she may never know either.

She briefly considered sharing her philosophy with Skywalker, but he probably wouldn't understand.

She considered her appearance. She had changed now, into more suitable wear. Her clothes were light blue, an Nubian style dress made of loose silk materials. It was comfortable and stylish, showing off her shoulders, the loose but thin straps designed to hand off the shoulders. Her hair had been parted at the front and swept back and held by large two large buns at popular style of nubians, the rest in a loose high ponytails, her abundant rick curls flowing down her back. Even without makeup her face was pretty, with large deep brown eyes and thick lashes. Her face was round and full and her smile was winning. She was pretty.

She knew this, she had been told this and she liked the way she looked, but what use was it when she was doomed to loneliness? At least if she was ugly she would never stand a chance anyway.

"Do you think I matter?'

She felt him look at her but she didn't move. Her eyes remained closed, her straight brows draw down slightly. She didn't know why she decided to ask him, but she needed to talk to someone, and he was the best listener she knew besides Obi-Wan.

 _He would be intent to destroy every mental barrier she had and gain her trust so easily with even trying._

She didn't mind.

In this moment, she needed companionship. And if he could provide her that, then there could be no problem. "I know I seem like the last person to be asking that, after all, I am a highly respected member of the Galactic Senate. I was a queen of Naboo at fourteen. I've been successful, and gained enough reverence that the Nabeirre and Amidala name will become a great legacy. I'm rich, and have a comfortable life. I can make speeches that will bring people to tears, and I've said things that have become great quotes. But what use is that if that is all I did? What if, despite my morals, my achievements and pretty speeches, all I'm remembered as a good person who spoke many great things?"

Her eyes opened, exposing deep brown color that seemed to suck one in, but she didn't look at him, her gaze on the ceiling. She breathed once, her mouth parting as she searched for the right words. She could speak beautifully. It was only when her own personal feelings were concerned that she had problems. "If that was only as far I would have gotten, I would have failed. I was nothing more than nice ideas and words. I...I don't want that be my legacy. It don't want it to end there." She turned to him, looking into his eyes, that were looking at her in a intensity foreign to normal men. Deep blue instead of the brilliant hue that adorned them earlier, she had his complete attention.

Why did she pay so much attention to his eyes?

Whoever said that eyes were the window to the soul, hadn't even glimpsed the true meaning of those words.

Skywalker could probably lie without a batting an eye and even thinking about it, could talk a softly as he wanted to, but his eyes were the giveaway. They changed with every emotion. He could hide so much, but he couldn't change that, not beyond gold, which was a tell-tale color itself. But just like windows, they had shutters. They would grow an odd dull cerulean when he was guarded, but remained sharp.

At right now, he was listening to everything she had to say.

"I want to do something. Be a part of a change, not just someone who never did anything but always wanted to. I want to fix everything Palpatine destroyed, to do something worthy of recognition. If I was senator and queen, and still didn't make a change, then I lost. I lost everything, and spent my life wasting away without ever being able to enjoy what life had left to enjoy. But if I give in, I give them the winning hand. And maybe it's not up to me. Maybe, I don't have that power, I'll never know. But if I don't stand up and fight for my beliefs, who will? I know that sounds so...generic, but for me it's literally true. There is no one left but me. All the others are gone, or dead. But if I don't make a difference, then I never learned to step back, to acknowledge greater strength, to let it go and let it run it's course. I could enjoy my life. Meet a man, marry him, have his kids, be happy, all of it. But if I did, the knowledge that I may have mattered just enough...I couldn't live with it. I'm stuck in a cycle that could ruin me or save the galaxy." She sighed quietly, turning away from his intense gaze. "There are so many different levels of thing to consider that may not even do me any good _to_ consider."

He was quiet, and she could envision him looking at her and mulling over her words carefully.

She waited. Because despite what she said and how nice it felt to say it someone else, she know wanted him to hear his response.

"Why can't you have both?"

"A family and a career?"

"Yes."

"Say I do. And I fail, unable to ever forgive myself because I didn't give my all. Say I don't. And I win. And by that time my children hardly ever see me, and always believe I wasn't there for them or gave them my all. I never knew all the things in my household because _I was never there._ I would never forgive myself."

"I see. And that has been something you have always wanted? A family?"

Padmé turned back to look at him, smiling softly. "It's been one of my dreams since I was little." Another thought invaded her mind. "Have you ever wondered if you're winning or losing in disguise? Missing out on what you could of had?"

"My life..." He paused, thinking back. "How I am now, is a product is consequential to a life that was forced on me. I taken from my home at only fourteen, and have been beaten to within an inch of my life more times than I can remember. Only very recently was I allowed my freedom, seeing the opportunity, it taking it. But between that time and know, I wished so many times for what I could have had, but was never given the chance.

I have raised myself, and created and entire empire of my own. But one day, it will fall, giving way to the next power. I can only survive for so long, despite how far my power stretches. I've done too much harm to be granted eternal favor. And if I die peacefully, then it will crumble. Without me holding it up, others will come and destroy it, like the changing of seasons, the process of necessary progressive action. Maybe one day years into the future someone will continue my vision. Raise it higher, and watch how much rubble is creates when it falls." His gaze caught her intent orbs. "So yes, I do wonder what will happen when it's over, or how it will come about. Unfortunately, there is no way to ever know, wether we chose our path or not."

Beaten? Skywalker had been abused? So many things she never even suspected suddenly came together. But so many more thoughts suddenly came. How did it happen? Who treated him that way? What happened to him between then and now? How long had it been since he freed himself?

She decided to ask only two. "Would you ever go back? To you family?"

"Dead."

"Who..?"

"I doesn't matter now, he's dead."

Padmé stared at him a long time. "You killed him." Observation.

He leaned back, smiling lazily at her. There was and dark, wild look in his eyes. Unadulterated bloodlust was there, not for everyone, but hungry for the destruction of this captioner. Gone, but he still wanted more. Not and simple revenge, vengeance. He had done the deed, and he had never done enough. There was victory, but there was never enough justification in the act. There never would be. If he could kill him again, he would, worst than before.

His smile would seem contradictory to what was lurking underneath, but one look in his eyes would destroy that. Victory and exoneration was over, now was the time for the feral desire to drag him back to life and rip him to pieces. He smiled in that easy way malice etched into the brutal curve of his lips, his eyes gleaming. He had fought, he had won, he had experienced triumph, he wanted more, and wasn't ashamed of it.

He knew that she understood. He knew that she knew what kind of person he was, the kind of things that he had done. He'd killed. He'd do it again in a heartbeat.

At first, it had been a game. He was elusive and predatory, and she wanted to know more. He wasn't an completely good person. He had done - he _did_ bad things, thing that Padmé didn't support, in fact, fought against. And over time, it became less of an suspicion and more a fact. She said so long as she didn't know the how and why, who, when and where, it could be ignored. But he knew the moment she accepted it to be true, and there was no longer any way to refute it, because he didn't care, and she would play dumb, turning a blind eye to it.

But this time, she felt that it had been condoned.

So, she nodded, reclining back as well. "Good."

Silence encompassed them briefly, but after a few moments she spoke again to lighten the mood. "And have you ever wanted children or a wife?"

He considered briefly. "Never had time to entertain the thought. I was busy with so many things that female companionship was never really the priority at the moment. I believe I scare them, actually."

Padmé snorted quietly. "You're not scary."

He stared at her a long time, that same inscrutable expression from earlier on his face, brow down, eyes narrowed and his bottom lip held captive by his teeth. "I have a...persona that I am known by. It's generally not...considered pleasant."

 _Padmé watched him carefully, not wanting to miss a hint of expression on his face. She nodded. "You know that personally too, don't you?" He didn't respond a long time, his eyes burning in intensely. "Yes, I do. More than he average person would believe possible."_

He was an unique character, for sure.

* * *

 _En route to Naboo,_

 _Approx. Thirteen hours later._

She was beautiful.

Curled halfway into circle, she slept, her deep, slow breathing reiterating the fact. Her left arm was curled under her head in an almost awkward fashion, and her knees were pulled up towards the expanse of her flat stomach. With each breath, her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the strap on her arm sliding down lower and exposing some of her chest, and lifting her other arm which was crossed over it and hooked underneath her head. And flat gold pendant in the shape of an teardrop rested in the curved dip between her breasts. Her hair, her beautiful thick hair, had been mostly pulled gently away from her face in wisps, drawn up in a ponytail which hung over her shoulders, large ornately braided buns on either side of her head. The entire hairstyle was laced with jewelry, braided in her hair, something he noticed must be normal of nubian hairstyles. Instead of earrings, she wore long dangling golden plates that matched her necklace, that hung from her hair. A few strands of her hair had managed to get on her face, so every time she breathed, it twitched, blowing upwards and falling back, and her brows would twitch in irritation.

Vader could hardly remember when he even found a woman remotely attractive. He understood that some females were more pleasant to look at than others, and the advantages it brought, but that was as far he ever noticed. But she, she was dangerous, more than she knew.

He'd thought her so strange. She had the will and the courage of a strong adult female, but at the same time she seemed so...young. Her body was so small he could probably span her entire stomach with his hand. He believed the reference was 'petite.' He knew it beforehand, of course. He knew how tall she was, what her blood type was, and the location her where he parents lived, and her allergies. But her voice? It was so entirely young. Her laugh sounded like that of a adolescent female.

And oddly enough, it pleased him.

So, he'd make her his.

* * *

It happened every few moments.

Something fell lightly on her face, something soft and small.

She made a small noise of irritation, unconsciously brushing at her face, completely missing the hair that was causing her trouble.

The soft beep of the reversion alert started, causing her to groan as it began pulling her from her dreamland. She had yet to get some decent sleep. Every time, it was disrupted.

"Shavit." Her disgruntled and tired voice was an exact example of her imminent exasperation. She sat up, her curls falling over her shoulder, bouncing subtly as she moved, scrunching her nose. "How long have I been asleep?"

He glanced back at her, momentarily, his face passive. She noticed that was his normal facial expression. She also guessed that he hadn't probably slept at all. "About twelve hours."

A surprisingly long time. But then again, after not sleeping really at all last night and everything that recently happened weighing on her mind, it wasn't that hard to imagine why. Skywalker didn't seem to have the least amount of trouble, but he probably went home early last night. She felt her hair, noting how it felt loose.

"I'll be back." She stood, her hand running down the side of her face briefly, walking towards the 'fresher.

She needed to fix her hair and-

It suddenly occurred to her that throughout the entirety of the past...month, she had yet to explain all of the details of what had been happening to her handmaidens. Meeting Skywalker, going into Vader's home, somehow falling asleep on his couch, waking up at home, her several arrests, her plans to Naboo, what happened at the ball. In fact, she hadn't even warned them this morning when she left. They had absolutely no idea what was happening.

In fact, neither did she.

She quickly searched for her muted comm., which she had turned off, not ready to face the barrage of questions that was sure to come. Turning it back on, she shut herself into the 'fresher. Quickly dialing her handmaiden's number, she waited anxiously, tapping her foot on the floor. It wasn't like her to be so absentminded. If she was leaving, they would know months beforehand. Why wasn't she like that now?

"Hello?" Hopeful, raspy and worried, the voice on the other end of the comm. nearly broke Padmé's heart. And of course now, when there was a thousand different terrible ways she could have died, now she decided to torment them.

"Dormé? Are you okay?" No, she wasn't, and it was because of Padmé's carelessness.

A chocked sound, somewhere between a sigh and a sob echoed hoarsely from the comm. "Oh, milady."

* * *

Since it was so dark on Naboo when they arrived, they chose to stay in hotel instead of going straight to an hotel. It took them an entire hour to decide who got to pick the hotel. By the end of the argument they were nearly yelling at each other, Padmé was stamping her foot and swearing, and Skywalker's eyes were a furious gold, and he looked almost like he was trying to restrain himself from strangling her. In fact, she knew he was by they he almost lunged at her, his hands reaching for her neck.

But he didn't touch her, instead nearly shouting swear words in some foreign tongue. His fists had clenched and unclenched as he attempted breathing practices. That didn't stop Padmé from trying to kick him. Several times.

Leave it to the Force to bring to stubborn people togeth - make them friends.

He had then consented, allowing her to take the lead. And now they were comfortably settled in their hotel room with double beds.

The room had the same beige tones from the hotels lobby, the entire room designed for luxury. It carried the entire theme of Naboo in the one room, thick pillars and openness instead of walls, silk curtains instead of tinted glass, the carpet soft and thick rather than tile or marble.

Rather her style.

Crawling across the bed in her nightgown, the gaping neckline halfway on her shoulder, and her brush in her fist, she sat down when she was at the top of the bed. Laying with her feet out in in front of her and her back against the large, soft decorative pillows on top of the blankets, she began brushing her hair.

Silken threads of hair grew strait for a moment, pulling softly into perfect straitness, then as soon as they slipped from in between the soft density of the brush, they bounced back, curling incorrigibly. She went carefully over her whole head in the same manner, thankful that there was very little tangles. The soft drag and gentle slow pull of the brush reminded her briefly of her handmaidens. Sabé would brush her hair at night, going though it lock by lock, working the tangles out with the thick bristle brush, then smoothing it out from root to tip with her big soft one, the one she now held in her hands. It was cathartic in way, just taking the time to go through her hair.

He watched her unwaveringly. She could feel his eyes on her, completely unabashed. She tried not to react or even notice, but she didn't even have to look at him to know that he was looking at her. Her fingers fumbled slightly, and she felt oddly clumsy. And hot, like she had been looked in a small room with a steam bath. She felt ready to start sweating, her skin tingling from his gaze.

Curling one bit around her and pulling it out until it fell back, she set her brush on the dresser, finished with her work.

She moved off the bed slowly, conscious of him watching her. She pulled back the the rich duvet, trying to divert her attention to the gold trimming of elaborate designs. The dimmed lamps moved freakishly large shadows around the room as she moved in front of them. Slipping underneath the covers, she felt the comforting weight of it on her. Once they were pulled up all the way to her chin, she stared up at the ceiling a while, the lights barely illuminating the ceiling.

She heard Skywalker shift a few seconds, and only when it was fairly quiet she looked at him.

Soft locks of toasted gold hair was wound around his fingers, which was seemed to be halfway through the act of running his hand through it. He was facing her, half on his side and half on his stomach, his form stretched out rather widely over the mattress, compared to her. His eyes were closed, the light creating even longer shadows across his face. His forever-red sinuous full lips were closed still, but for some reason she pictured him as one who breathed through his mouth still when he was asleep. It was enviable, how perfectly tanned he was.

"Hey, Skywalker?"

Placid blue irises met her own.

"Do you want me to turn the lights off?"

He nodded, closing his eyes again. Padmé leans forward, twisting her body towards her dresser and sliding the tiny tab completely forward so the lights turned off.

Silence.

Sitting with the blanket pulled all the way up to her chin, she tried to go to sleep. She didn't move much, every shift sounding loud to her ears in the quiet. Skywalker's breaths were slow and even, and she guessed he had gone to sleep. But she couldn't. Not when he was so close. The room was too warm, the room was too cold. Sleep seemed to evade her completely, and restlessness took over.

This carried on her several minutes until she decided to take action.

Slipping out from underneath the covers soundlessly so as not to wake him, she did what she knew must. She found herself staring down at his bed in indecision, wondering why she was there in the first place. She could barely see him by the moonlight.

 _He'll never know. I can wake up early in the morning and be gone before he even knew I was there..._

His arm moved, lifting the covers in invitation.

A tiny, giddy smile broke out on her face as she crawled into his bed, crawling in so she faced him as he dropped the blanket back over them. His arm fell across her waist, and he moved his hand down until it was on her hip, the tips of his fingers dangerously close to her butt, and pulled her sharply towards him. A shocked breath hissed out of her as she felt her body go flush with his.

Her eyes were wide in the dark, her head right on his shoulder, and her breaths were fast. Warm wafts of air heated the skin of her neck causing goosebumps to rise over her skin and her scalp to tighten, her senses high strung with anticipation. His hand on her hip was torturous. His body was so firm and strong against hers, and she could feel every honed muscle against her body. She breathed in his smell, so infinitely clean and masculine. His chest expanded softly when he breathed, the steady calm beat of his heart far different then hers.

Oh, what had she been thinking? This was worse. Far worse. She couldn't - him so close, and - he was supposed to be her friend and-

She couldn't - shouldn't think about him like this.

Another deep breath fanned over her neck, and closed her eyes.

He was no fool. He had to know what he made her feel. He was doing it on purpose, and she knew it. Unfortunately, that threw a wrench in her 'friends' theory.

"Goodnight, Skywalker." Her words were whispered and so quiet she doubted he heard it. He inhaled deeply, shifting slightly and she knew he had. He didn't answer immediately, instead burying his face closer to her neck. Letting the lull of his breathing calm her, sleep overcame her quickly, drawing her into comforting folds.

But right before she lost consciousness, she heard one thing that may have been in her head that made her smile.

 _Goodnight, Senator._

 **A/N: YIYIYIYIYIYGUNNNUUGNNKKK!**

 **xx,**

 **Christina.**

 **Fun Fact: This story has yet to even begin. (Did you enjoy Vader's pov?)**

 **Word Count: 6281**


	21. XVIII: Assassins, Caffa And Meditation

**A/N: Hewolw.**

 _"Ani!" Screams were muffled, downed out in the steady stream of blood falling from his side._

 _Breathe._

 _Deep breaths were all that came from him, sluggish and painful. The expand of the chest seemed to pull the hole in his side wider, stretching out the wound with agonizing deliberation, the sand on the ground like salt in the wound._

 _Feel the air around you._

 _Black started to take over, and though he fought valiantly, he could feel that odd calm of unconsciousness coming over him. Bits and pieces floated through his vision. His mother, struggling to reach him. He saw the rain clinging to her hair, slick and dark. Bits of white and black swarmed around him. Clones._

 _Be not in the past, nor in the future, but in the present._

 _The color of her hair. How her smile looked like. Bits of things he would never see again. A brief flash of her, straining to get to him, held back by the arm of the troopers. The glint of metal in he dark as one raised a blaster to her head._

 _Awareness._

 _He was underwater, surfacing every few seconds only to fall back under. Something hot and metal prodded at the wound in his stomach, pulling it wider, the rip in the skin spreading. He screamed, falling under only to come right back. White flashed above his head. He went under slowly, and this time he blew out the air in his lungs, allowing himself to drown._

 _Think of nothing but yourself and your surroundings, until they become one, until the symphony that breathes breath into every living being is all you are._

 _He inhaled, the sun shining down on him. Heat branded his skin, the suns causing him to squint at the horizon. The waves rising from the ground was so entirely muddling that could barely trace the barren curve._

 _Know who you are, what you are, and your purpose._

 _He stared down at the corpse. Not just any, but the first that he'd ever made. The life was gone, extinguishing itself from this galaxy. Blood stained his hands, marking his robes. He quietly washed his hands and left the house, leaving someone else to deduce the meaning. Later, looked at his hands, now clean of any evidence, and wondered why he didn't feel anything._

 _Air fills your lungs, bringing you life._

 _The onslaught of pain ripping through his body nearly pushed him to try suicide, rather than rip his body apart with every breath. He sank under the rippling waves._

 _The air goes out of you, and scattering bits of your essence through the galaxy, not restrained to this planet or any other._

 _It filled his lungs, an curious sensation of understanding what drowning felt like overcoming him. It felt wrong, forcing all the things necessary to release its animation from him._

 _Across the galaxy, someone mingles their breath, yours, and many others._

 _It took away his air, and his eyes opened to see the last bit of bubbles floating away from him. Round, circular and oddly clear despite the blue that encased it, they moved to the surface, to their hope. Inside, he laughed. They could make it. He wouldn't._

 _Birds make trilling noises in their throats, alerting all that morning has come. The sun shines down on you, warming your body only where you face it._

 _It wasn't one-sided, the drainage of life from him. It turned the water red, staining it and curdling up like crimson smoke. He inhaled the water, and red swirled in his lungs as he breathed a last taste of his life._

 _Feel the beings moving all around you, synchronize their heartbeats to an steady rhythm. They move all around, but you remain still. Time does not exist where you are._

 _His mouth opened, and water filled him completely. He was now just a body, a body that had lost what gave it life, and what could have sustained him was now choking him._

 _Free falling, everything slows. You are cushioned in an unknown nirvana, and encased in some non-physical suspense. You do not think, but but rather focus on every hypersensitivity around you._

 _No._

 _This beat, the steady thump is there. You do not see it, or know of it until the heat of the battle, but it's there. You read about, and know it exists, but are so quick to forget what grants you the ability to forget. But if you put your hand there, you feel it. It's there, purposely helping you exist._

 _No._

 _You mind is clear, and now in this calm level of hyper-awareness, you are ready for any move from any side._

 _It was coming, and they needed to be gone when it got here._

* * *

Dreams.

Visions.

Memories.

In his meditation, they all merged into one. But instead of torturing him with things to come, they showed mostly memories. Memories and metaphors. They haunted his nights, and shadowed his life.

His eyes opened to the light, blue irises contracting and expanding around the pupil, autocorrecting the brightness intake and in less than an second, his focus was perfect. His gaze dropped down from the picturesque mountains around the city to the buildings within.

Theed was built like an platform, a like an plateau that cut off suddenly at its borders, and slowly melted into the terrain along the sides. Rivers ran in canals all though it, from the huge lake lying right on the middle of the city near the palace. Sunlight gleamed against the dome of thousands of little building and houses, all of their structures built like small palaces. Greenery sprung forth everywhere, covering the ground with untainted natural beauty. All around, mountains rose softly, framing the city's view. White clouds spotted the skies, the back drop behind them ethereal blue. For a man who cared little for things outside how he could make them work for him, he took a moment to enjoy the serene beauty around him.

 _Let go, become one with your surroundings._

He breathed in deeply, shifting his focus from the view to focusing inside and sensing what surrounded him. Not a moment too soon.

Her quiet breathes faltered, her heart rate picking up her presence sharpening to focus. The sound of an soft shift of the blankets pricked his force-attuned ears. If he were an animal, his ear would have swiveled, searching for the precise sound.

So, she was waking up.

Impressive.

A tiny frustrated mix of a wine and a moan pricked at his hearing, no doubt her waking was considered unpleasant for her. It seemed strange to think of sleeping until now. He normally woke around 2400, or earlier if necessary. He blamed it on his insomnia. More than likely, he had some post-trauma issues.

If they allowed him better performance hours, then hell if he wasn't going to take advantage of it, despite how sick it sounded.

Darth Vader, Emperor, Sith Lord, terror of the galaxy, skilled practitioner of the Dark Side, physical and emotional abuse and post-trauma victim, using insomnia to push himself through a day. The holo-net would have had a field day.

She was watching him. He could feel his eyes on him even though he wasn't looking at her. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the sweet-smelling air around him.

 _Become one._

He was transparent, even in his own mind. A piece of the scenery, not a statue, but as motionless as a rock, as still as the mountains, stable as the ground underneath him.

People moved around, and he felt the tremors under his feet as though he was rooted into the ground. Underneath the soil of the very building he now stood on, life moved creating tunnels for themselves. He felt the life around him, within him, and the the quiet whisper of an exhale from behind him.

He felt her move more than he heard her move up beside him. She just stood there, in silence.

No words were said. None were needed.

She glanced at him, checking his posture before aligning herself with him. Curious, he watched her watch him a moment, before stepping a few steps away from him, careful not to move so that they were not in a straight line. Her pink little tongue stuck between her teeth, she eyed his legs, them moved back over until her foot was almost right next to his. He noticed that her little toe was red and the others white.

 _Nubians_.

Then she walked out her other foot until her legs were spread slightly.

Oh.

She then glanced at his hands, before moving hers behind her back so she was in the exact same position he was. He watched her amusedly a few seconds while she stood, staring out over theed with contentedness. After a few moments, however, she looked at him innocently, her eyes an luminous liquid chocolate brown. Her straight eyebrows arched in challenge, defiance seeping into her orbs. Soft lips were pursed, accentuating her act of defiance. Her hair was tumultuous waves of ringlets now spread around her shoulders, and over the bare shoulders of her sheer nightgown.

Oh, but the cheeka loved to tease him.

Blowing out a soft laugh through his nose, turned back forward. Another welling of curiosity demanded that he knew what she was thinking.

No.

No more than her moods were to be known to him, but not her thoughts, never her thoughts. It was a compromise of her thoughts he knew he couldn't afford. Reading her mind was not to be done. She was to be protected at all times. Lying was not excusable, not even once. She was to be flawless.

Why?

Because when he revealed himself to her, she couldn't have an excuse. He never lied. If he had, she would have jumped on it as something to hold him accountable for. Of course, she would automatically believe if she was hurt by any outside force that it was the responsibility of the empire. So, he made sure she would be as without blemishes then as she was now. He could never be accused of reading her mind, or taking advantage of her. And never let it be said that he preyed around only for information. He would get it, of course, but not by her, never by her.

Anything that could possibly brand him as playing unfairly was unacceptable. Wether she liked it or not, he wasn't about to give any reason to hate him, besides the obvious.

But until he had gotten her to care for him enough to override her betrayal, he couldn't allow a single flaw to mar his plan.

The trip was a week and a half long. That was all the time he had to bring her to his side.

He reviewed his mental checklist.

He would observe her from afar.

He would meet her, personally.

He would build a trusting relationship with her.

He would strike.

He would not miss.

That was it.

Five easy steps. He now had one left to establish, and a timeframe to land the last.

A week and a half.

* * *

Black.

Steam rose from it, and perspiration beaded against the side of the mug. The the bold aroma of it was pleasant to her senses. Cool ceramic of the mug had heated so it almost burned her fingers, but she didn't mind. Wrapping her hand around the mug more firmly, she reached for her own caffa, an nice icy frappé.

Light and cold, dark and hot.

She wonders if it was a sign.

She walked slowly into the living room, wrapped in her robe and most of her hair pulled up into a high ponytail, the rest loose, she was careful not to spill either of the mugs, as one would burn her toes right off, and the other give them frostbite.

Setting one the table in front of Skywalker carefully, she slid into the seat across from him. "I don't know what kind of caffa you like, so I just made black."

He hummed, his eyes still focused on the datapad in his hands. She watched the long blond eyelashes as they cast shadows across his irises, that looked almost black except in a ring around the bottom that caught the light, brilliant pale blue. She could pick out the tiny pale blond hairs on his face, more concentrated above his upper lip, over the soft coutures and curves that was his lips. She just detected blond in his eyebrows, that took on the darker shade of his hair, which was currently still a mess. Her eyes followed the smooth tan skin of his neck, along his collarbone and disappearing under the darkness of his loose black nightshirt.

He took the mug absentmindedly, bringing it to his lips a he took a sip, before setting it back down. She looked back at his eyes, trying to discern what he was thinking. His lashes raised, curling upwards just slightly, so long that they seemed too heavy to hold up high, instead drooping, no, sloping softly downwards and to the side, fanning around the rim of his eyes.

It suddenly occurred to her that the reason she could see his eyes so clearly was become she was looking straight at him while he replicated the action.

He didn't look away, and neither did she.

She realized something interesting then to add to the list of strange things that seemed to happen between them.

Sometimes, they didn't need words, each other's company was simply enough.

Padmé Amidala, no longer senator or queen, at least for now, couldn't remember the time when that had simply been _enough._

And all at once, she wanted more. She wanted more answers than she had questions. She wanted to know what he thought about this morning, thoughts raging storms in his eyes. She wanted to know him, his likes and dislikes. She wanted to know about his past and all the details, what his present was like, and his plans for the future.

And she wished for so many things. Maybe because she was a senator and her life revolved widely around politics that it seemed the biggest wall between them, but she still believed it didn't exist. She wished he didn't fall in favor of the empire. She wished that he shared her opinions. She wished that they were on the same side, fighting together. To some it seemed like an tiny difference, but in the state of the galaxy at large, it was a matter of life and death. The lines between friends and foe had been smoothed away to make lines for enemy or ally. If push came to shove, and between the middle of a galactic war, it undoubtedly would, some things could only be ignored for so long.

How many times had she told herself that in the past few days?

On how many things?

And exactly how many of those _things_ included Skywalker?

If only...

She wished this war didn't exist. If things had been different, maybe.

Why was she tempted with the best offers when she had no money with her? Why whenever she started feeling comfortable someone close to her died? Why when she needed something she could never find it? Why, when the galaxy offered her the most desirable and interesting man, he was estranged from her? So unattainable, yet so appealing and different from what she'd think she'd like? It was like standing on the edge on a chasm, looking at everything she had ever wanted sitting on the other side as the gap grew wider.

She was never meant to have nice things, just as their friendship would never last.

Instead of closer, irreversible and irrevocable differences would draw them father and farther away.

Her throat closed and her heart felt heavy, tears almost beginning to shine in her eyes.

He would soon become an fond memory, of a friend she never knew.

The thought made her chest ache hollowly.

In fact, maybe she should end things with him now before it became bitter.

But if not forever, let her have him for just a while, just a little while.

Her mind filled with thoughts of those already gone, the ones closest to her.

 _Panaka._

 _Typho._

 _Cordé._

 _Katus._

Soon _him_ too.

But for now, she got an offer enjoy him. And she intended to. If she couldn't have nice things permanently, she was going to enjoy _every moment_ she had.

A week and a half.

She saw the question in his eyes, and she responded with a sad bland smile, looking down. When her gaze lowered to the table she remembered her drink. Taking a sip, she forced her mind to other things. "So, do you like your caffa black? I didn't know how you liked it specifically so I just went wi-"

"It's disgusting."

Padmé nearly laughed outright.

Of course he wouldn't mince his words. He didn't understand subtlety. Not as though she required it, but sometimes it shocked her how straightforward he was. But she was grateful he went with it instead of pushing an answer from her. She nodded slowly, pressing her lips together and rolling them into her mouth, her eyebrows raised. "Of course. Well, how do you like your caffa then?"

"I don't like caffa at all. It repulses me."

"I see."

"Yes."

She took another sip of her drink, holding her hand out for the datapad. It was time for her to face the media. She scrolled absentmindedly through the feeds, taking note of her name being mentioned every few minutes. Some were negative, stating that she was a turncoat to all the values she endorsed, allowing herself to be Vader's prostitute, ahem, mistress (in far less polite terms), some were positive, looking forward to the combinations of forces as the new power couple, even indulging in _fangirling_ , and most were simply shocked and dumbfounded. Padmé calmly took another sip of her caffa.

Something touched her hand, causing her to look up.

Skywalker, who had apparently been studying her hands with disapproval had reached forward to rearrange her fingers on her mug, changing it so her pinky finger (why it was called that she would never know, despite hours of research) no longer stuck in the air and was wrapped around the handle.

Padmé eyed him curiously as he sat back in his seat, satisfied.

Turning off the datapad, she crossed her fingers diplomatically on the table, looking at working out the details of what she needed to do today in her mind. "So."

He raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"I think we first need to pay a visit to the queen, because apparently, I have some explaining to do on what will not be mentioned, and explore the city a bit, then we'll head to my parents, have some lunch and stay there maybe a few days, then retire to my vacation house."

"As you wish, Amidala. I have no objections."

"Let's get ready then."

A week and a half.

* * *

Her long curls bounced as she walked, strayaways blowing in the light breeze that had swept over the city, having been arranged into a large, loose high bun that was held up by a metal hairband, the rest hanging down her back. Her eyes were alight with joy and contentedness, and tiny smile had taken captive her lips, and for some reason refused to budge. Dressed comfortably in a soft velvety two piece that exposed most of her stomach and back, her stride relaxed and unhurried, she took the time to savor every bit of her homeworld, occasionally sharing a few facts about Naboo's history with Skywalker.

So was home, she was happy, she was free.

It didn't mean her feet and legs weren't screaming bloody murder.

By the time they arrived at the palace it near lunch-time, and her stomach was protesting as well.

The palace was quite a structure. The tallest building in theed, and on the edge of of the cutoff of theed, it was quite a vision. Visible from any part of city, it stood magnificent.

That word...

The outer courtyard, or plaza was large, and, as usual, filled with people. Not as many as there could be, but still quite a few. On either side of the giant staircase, humongous statues stood, towering high above the people. The palace itself was consisted of may towers, topped with the traditional domes that occupied just about every building in Naboo. Square pillars held up the main structure, and arches decorated the courtyard.

It was a welcoming site.

The only mar in it was the splendid eternity of stairs.

Padmé paused to take a breath, looking over at Skywalker, who was looking at the palace with contemplative eyes. He scanned the area around them almost as if he was mapping out the area around them in his mind. Padmé watched him with fascination.

What did the man think about?

Padmé forced herself to focus her attention on getting inside the palace.

"Your majesty." Padmé dipped into a curtesy, bowing her head to show her respect.

"Senator." The words were dull and cold, and Padmé held back a smile. It was entirely what she had expected. Naboo had been in the republic, so when the empire was created, Naboo had no choice but to follow the action. However, they relied heavily on her to communicate their concern and strong opposition, holding hard to democracy. In the senate, Padmé was their only hope. Although the Queen didn't exactly know that Padmé was connected to the rebellion, Padmé suspected she was somewhat aware. But like Alderaan, risking their planet's safety had never been a question for Padmé, so to protect Naboo and the queen, she spoke none about it.

She dully thoughts that her voice was icier, instead of a blunt, razor blade, it was sharp and cutting. Far more formidable.

"I must say,-"

Here it comes. The start, placed in a carefully harmless way, a way that would lead to question, that was intended to bait a response, like a thinly veiled insult that called for a defense, thus, the explanation.

"After your recent _surprise (scandalous escapade)_ , I was quizzed (shocked and affronted) to receive your message, saying that you requested an audience." Jamilia, Queen of Naboo, stared at her with an raised eyebrow, communicating her current disdain.

Surprisingly, she did not jump to the question, instead giving her the time to explain.

Padmé smiled demurely.

"And after all, if I may be blunt, I had not expected you to message at all, given the circumstances." She was playing it out longer still.

Padmé lowered her head, still smiling calmly. After a moment, she looked back up to see Jamilia staring at her with wide eyes and raised brows, her mouth pinched, exasperation clear on her face. She didn't want to throw the bait. Padmé shrugged slightly, doing her best to appear harmless and innocent. "And yet, milady, here I am."

Jamilia sighed and stood, walking over to the large widow behind her, staring listlessly at Theed. "Amidala, please. Let us not talk in circles. You are aware of what is being said, and what you have done. An forgive me for the intrusive question, but am I to understand that you have been being Vader's...what are they calling it... _plaything_?"

Oh, it was ironic how certain words seemed to be floating all around her. "You accuse me of losing my republic views I have spent my life expressing and giving Naboo voice for."

"No." Jamilia didn't look at her immediately, remaining at the window. When she did, her face was stern and blank. "But if not, I deserve an answer. Naboo deserves an answer. Everyone in the galaxy deserves an answer. You are one of the last ones, I don't know, perhaps the last. And now the only pillar that holds us up has been shaken. The world deserves to know why."

"In the circumstances that I have ever found myself in Vader's proximity, our conversations were far within the limits of formality." First the assurance. "By no means was he at all inappropriate." Excepting the point of strangulation, but moving on... "As far as you know, I'm sure you was aware of what the media had released concerning my 'involvement' with the rebel base, speaking out blasphemous words that could ruin my reputation and cast doubt of Naboo." Next the skillful incorporation of facts. Padmé looked at the queen, making sure her eyes conveyed necessary feeling. "I couldn't allow that to happen. In my anger, I brashly stormed into Palpi - his late emperor's office and demanded that he removed it as once, accusing him of baseless slander and speculation. He then ever so kindly reminded me, that removing it would be of no good since the entire galaxy probably had already known. He then came up with his harebrained scheme to send me as Vader as his date to draw away attention from the past article, completely eradicating the suspicion."

"It worked to certain extent. I don't think he knew about it beforehand, but after the invitation had been extended to the aforementioned party was informed and confirmed, I was trapped. I did the most sensible thing, mentally prepared for the backlash, I held my head up high. When Palpatine became indisposed, an action I was unaware was to take place, I went into a sate of shock. Apparently, Vader somehow thought it'd be funny to further shock the press and all present, placing me so publicly on his lap, hence the rumors. He later, after our departure, had me sent home by virtue of Imperial escorts. I immediately made arrangements for departure. Until there is a new representative in that senate, I cannot do anything anyways."

Padmé interlaced her manicured fingers together, placing on her leap and breathing in deeply, purposefully. She was by no means trying to deceive Jamilia, to the contrary. But Jamilia would look for signs to show her that she was speaking the truth, and for the reason that Padmé needed her to understand, she made sure to indulge and execute them perfectly. "Does that satisfy milady's curiosity?"

Jamilia nodded once. It was silent a moment before she spoke. "I am sorry to have doubted you."

Padmé lifted her shoulders ever so slightly to express a shrug, not dwelling on the past suspicion. "A common mistake."

For the first time since she arrived, Jamilia smiled, shaking her head in amusement as she moved towards Padmé. "Come. We must make an announcement and celebrate your return. You'll have to give a speech however about the entire ordeal, to explain." She moved as though to start preparations.

"I'd rather not." Jamilia looked at her in question. "It will take a while for them to calm, and I intend to have a politic free escape to just enough my family and friends company."

"What about the media?"

"I don't want to deal with that until all is settled and I return to Coruscant." She was firm in her decision.

"Then may the force be with you,"

"Thank you."

Jamilia finally addressed the tall silent character that stood motionlessly behind Padmé, taking in all that was happening. "Padmé, tell me about your friend."

"Forgive me. This, milady, is Skywalker, a friend of mine. We met about a month ago, and he agreed to join me on my quest to get away from Imperial Center."

Jamilia held her hand out, allowing him to kiss it, which he did _very_ charmingly. A little _too_ charmingly in Padmé's opinion.

"An pleasure to make your acquaintance, milady."

By tradition, the Queen's face was powered white with heavy layers of makeup, adding to the indiscernible facadé she was to uphold. Unfortunately for Jamilia, however, her neck was by no means covered, and the red flush the creeped up it was by no means hidden.

The queen looked at him curiously. "How do you find Naboo so far, Lord Skywalker?"

He smiled easily, tipping his head to the side, blue eyes almost looking violet in the light. "Beautiful beyond comparison. Her majesty has done well in her term."

Padmé watched him carefully, intently. What was he playing at? There was no light in his eyes, and despite the handsome smile and easy manner, he seemed...not tensed, but...careful. There was that cunning in his eyes, sharp and cold. It was hidden pretty well, but having paid extra time trying to discern his thoughts through his eyes (as that was the only way), she recognized it.

And by the small almost bashful smile Jamilia was trying to tamper down, Jamilia didn't.

Jamilia turned, beginning to walk out to the hallway, while Padmé followed suit.

"So, Skywalker, what sort of work do you do? What is your profession, or passion?" Jamilia began conversation again.

Skywalker stopped cold.

Padmé smirked, eyebrows raised as she turned to him, question in her face.

 _Well._

Full lips were parted, not in awe, but as if he had been severely caught of guard. His brows were drawn down just enough that he didn't look angry, but instead like he was deep in thought. His eyes were lost, far away from the galaxy, like his mind wasn't really there with them. And expression almost like confusion, but that wasn't the right word. No, it was like he was almost lost.

A bit of concern seeped into her. What was going on in there?

Then he sudden snapped back to focus, looking at the queen with that kriffing inscrutable look. "It depends."

Padmé cocked her head to the side. "On _what_?" She did not intend to letting him off that easy.

He gifted her with his most pleasant smile as though he didn't look like his mind had gone completely blank a few seconds ago. "The weather."

Padmé turned the queen, quite through with him. "The real reason why he's here with me is also because my dear friend incidentally leans towards more _imperial_ views. Fortunately, he has been agreed to give me the week to change his mind. If by the end of the week he is still not convinced, I will stop badgering him about it, and by rule he must assume to be also very open-minded."

Padmé looked at him proudly while the queen's interest in this game was visible.

Skywalker, who had been looking at Padmé with confusion and indignant frown, offered the most bland and insincere smile he could have made.

In her mind, she could positively _feel_ him mentally accepting her challenge.

* * *

Home.

She could see it. She could almost smell it. It was a dream finally realized.

The walk towards the house was wide, with brick walls that was almost her height. Archways occurred every few feet overhead, veins crawling over it like green poison. Along walk, other houses were situated, their walls made of solid brick and clay, which had chipped of in some places, exposing the brick that laid beneath. It by no means diminished it's beauty, instead adding to it's charm. Shiny ivy five cornered leaves of dark viridescence rustled with the soft brush on the wind.

Forcing herself not to run, Padmé walked slowly trying to savor the feeling of going home. She turned to look at Skywalker. Of course, he couldn't possibly understand her feeling, but she wanted to see his reaction.

He had that analyzing look, as though he was trying to plan out the best way of attack and learning every escape route.

Huh.

An impulsive decision prompted her to take his hand in hers, if just to bring him back to reality. Stepping closer to him, she slipped her hand in his large, intertwining her long, slim fingers in his. He jerked almost imperceptibly, tensing at her touch, almost flinching away from her. His eyes flew down to her hand, and he stared at it in an odd manner, before his eyes lifted to meet hers, relaxing immediately.

Her head cocked to the side, her deep brow eyes which were framed by thick long lashes that made them look even more inquisitive, she studied him. Pursing her reddish lips together in concentration, she tries to pick apart his actions.

Why did he react like that when he was touched? Hadn't he...

 _I taken from my home at only fourteen, and have been beaten to within an inch of my life more times than I can remember._

No wonder he was unused to her touch.

But he had relaxed, so perhaps he didn't mind, but had been taken off guard.

After a moment, she realized that she'd still been staring at him, probably like a enraptured young girl. She cleared her throat, but somehow didn't move, trying to absorb his entire face. His lashes were iridescent, she noticed, and in the shade they looked almost black. His hair as well, almost reddish brown, unrepentant wavy hairs decorating his face and the back of his neck. His eyes looked deep blue-violet, an unusual color the raging water of the storm. It almost angered her how his skin always seemed to improve under every lighting it was placed under. A tiny beauty mark above his lip caught her attention.

Where...

Jerking her gaze from his lips, she turned her head sharply forward, starting to walk again in determination, mentally cursing herself for appearing so haughty.

And so obvious.

She had barely taken a step when she smelt it.

 _Nooties._

A tiny pastry made of sweet dough and sugar, it set her senses alight. Nooties were made by curling dough like a cinnamon roll with filling into a small ball the size of an newborn's fist, then taking another flat circle of dough and sprinkling cinnamon and sugar on it. Then the miniature roll was to be placed in the center of the circle, and was to be totally covered with it. Once it had taken on the appearance of a upside-down bulb root, it was baked, and any topping could be placed on top.

They were, by far, one of Padmé's most favorite things.

And there was only one person who made them like no other.

 _Nana_.

She was one of the people who were everybody's nana, and no ones. A sweet old widow who slightly hard of hearing, Nana had no children, but somehow had managed to adopt ever child in Theed. She certainly wasn't Padmé's nana, who was severe and unloving, and somehow managed to look almost as young as Padmé and acted like it in all male company. No, Grandmother and Nana were two different people. And as mean as it sounded, she preferred Nana over her harsh grandmother.

Even mentally she didn't dare to call her grandmother 'granny' or 'nana.' When she had once attempted to do so, her grandmother called it 'unbecoming and aging', telling her to refrain at the age of six, that 'Such endearment was not required, as it was obviously not genuine on either behalf and she should stop it at once.'

That hadn't hurt as much as when Padmé had been twelve and suggested that she wanted to spend more time with her to perhaps bond, and her grandmother had replied with, 'You needn't worry yourself to insure an spot in my will. I have no intention on indulging little girl's fantasies.'

Padmé had then blurted that she was nothing at all like nana, who was caring and kind, and her grandmother's sweet rebuttal had been, 'the atrocity of caring and kindness gives people wrinkles.'

 _No_ , grandmother and Nana were two different people.

She'd have to visit Nana soon.

And Padmé sincerely hoped her face resembled a prune when she was old.

Charlice, to be pronounced as shar-leez, and _only_ shar-leez, was a very wealthy woman, who had taken it to be Padmé's tutor, showering her with harsh instructions and a distinct lack of love. She had tried to micro manage every aspect of Padmé's life, trying to mold her into how she felt Padmé should be. In fact, she might be glad to think that Padmé would marry Vader so he could 'keep her in line.'

She could mentally hear her saying it her dispassionate voice. Padmé's own sharpest voice came from when she imitated her.

Padmé quickly banished all such thoughts, determined not to ruin her walk _home_ with thoughts of _her._

When she was right in front of the door, her anxiety to see her family was nearly overwhelming and for that exact reason, she held back.

Finally, after standing at the door of her house for so long, Padmé Amidala raised her hand touched it.

* * *

"Hello?"

"Obi-Wan? We know where she is."

 **A/N: Whee!**

 _ **I have other ways to accomplish our goal - Count Dooku**_

 **xx,**

 **C.G.**

 **Fun Fact: So...someone asked about the pig, and...we recently...butchered it. To be fair, I cried a little.**

 **Word Count: 6467**


	22. XIX: Family, Questions, And Eavesdroppin

**A/N: So...yeah. I love you guys.**

 _Finally, after standing at the door of her house for so long, Padmé Amidala raised her hand touched it._

Joy.

Tears.

Happiness.

Everything he wasn't used to.

And the sweet redemption of food.

Quiet.

They didn't even notice him for a full five minutes, basking in the comfortable shadows of the dark entryway. Completely motionless, icy blue eyes that didn't know how to be warm watched them as though they were some odd species in their native habitat.

So, this was Amidala's family.

They all looked like her, but everyone one Naboo did besides the countless Gungans seemed to have an similar genetic makeup. She tearfully embraced an middle aged woman, who he recognized as her mother. She was fair, kind-faced and only mildly plump. An unfortunate but oddly usually unoffending trait he noticed in older females of all species, typically anywhere from thirty-four and earlier if they had children in their late twenties, to around seventy, were most rapidly grew smaller and shriveled.

Another female stood at her side, similar in features but younger looking, aesthetic in her own right. She was slightly larger than Amidala, but only just, as Amidala was more petite and slim, the woman was more voluptuous.

He inwardly found it oddly interesting. Most men were similar, varying only in height, muscle and bulk. But the endless shapes that females inhabited...

He never recalled having a favorite.

And picking one from the other when there was so many was just about impossible. If they were fit, heathy, and their body functioned as desired, then hr could see no problem with it.

The functionality of something so far more important then how it looked.

It wasn't as though he intended to place the things that was towards his preference on a shelf and occasionally stare at it.

In fact, he based his preferences on their functionality.

That singular fact made him very different from other people.

 _Strange_.

He was a mystery to himself. He never knew why he acted the way he did. He'd pondered and studied human behavior extensively, but he had yet to discern what made him so different from others, aside from the obvious. But as long as he functioned to the top of his ability then he felt no reason for dissatisfaction, so he let himself be, deciding to as he did instinctively, without giving thoughs to why. And why shouldn't he? He was alive, was he not?

So now, completely imperialized and utilitarian, he watched the kind, loving family interact through cold calculating eyes that didn't know how to be warm.

The atmosphere felt alien.

Two young girls, which he guessed were around anywhere from twelve to ten embraced her, and she crouched down to reciprocate. The sister's children. And finally, she was caught in the arms of of the only other male besides himself. Judging by the way she shrieked, 'Daddy!' In such a tone that would have almost made him flinch, he judged it be her father.

Fathers.

The extent of his knowledge of fathers was that they were the male half of the creation of 'normal' children. Generally known to be either fiercely protective of their families, specifically their daughters, or completely careless about their seed whatsoever. He'd seen many men try to protect the lives of their family's with their own, and others who begged him to take their daughters and spare themselves, which was an completely useless plea.

He had no quarrel with children and innocents.

In fact, the detestableness of the dehumanizing action only increased his wrath. If a man would allow someone to take their offspring to save themselves, they had little care for anything but themselves. In fact, in most instances of that sort, children had experienced physical or mental abuse or neglect.

His thoughts were abruptly cut short by the contact of eyes to his person.

He'd been noticed.

His eyes fixed of a certain wide eyed curious female who was watching with decided interest and a suspicion that wasn't pertaining to any form of wariness.

Amidala glanced over at her sister, before following her gaze to him, perhaps just remembering his presence. "Oh." She walked over to him, and wrapping her hand around his wrist, pulled him out into the main room, which just happened to be the dining room. "Mom, Dad, Sola," Putting emphasis on the word, and giving her sister a firm look as she saw the growing impish smile on her face, filling her cheeks and causing her eyes to twinkle with mischievous thoughts, "this is my friend," she looked at Sola again pointedly. "Skywalker. He will be joining me on the extent of my vacation, so be sure to make him feel welcome."

The amount of unholy glee in her sister's face was disconcerting.

* * *

Faces.

So many, all different shapes and sizes were stuck in his memory, but that one was missing.

It frustrated him to no end.

Everyone had a face (except Vader, of course). It didn't make sense to him how he could remember all other details, but not that. He racked his brain for clues, anything, but it was in vain. The Force, stubborn female(!), refused to give any answers though he begged relentlessly. Obi-Wan was beginning to think that he had somehow made her upset, and she was determined to punish him.

But if could just see it again...

Surely his memory would remind him.

So the sooner he could rescue Padmé, the sooner he could get to Tatooine.

He was reclusive.

She observes him around her family as she would an interesting species placed out of his natural habitat.

Not incompetently flustered nor visibly uncomfortable. No, he was far to collected for that. Perhaps it was his nature for control that caused him to be so distant from her family. It was interesting to watch him amongst them, opposite of all of them, blond, tall, blue eyed, dressed head to toe in dark colors. Unlike their normal, relaxed air, he was tense, surveying them as though he thought they were an exhibit to be observed, while she did the same to him.

She didn't miss his ability to disappear. He had entered with Padmé, and she hadn't even noticed him until he stepped out of the shadows. It chilled her, causing tremors of iciness to slither all over her skin. And his presence was physical, ice, lava, powerful, and dark. Not exactly evil, but dark. Reclusive and sinister.

He was handsome, with dark blond hair, cold but calm, passive crystalline blue eyes, reddish lips and tanned skin. He was younger than thirty, and she guessed mid-twenties, but there was none of that harmless cockiness or sweetness of charm in him. Not even the playboy air, or the sensuous handsomeness of an man in his early thirties.

Instead there was fierce intelligent cunning, which she just realized was usually hidden by his passive air, meant to deceive the mind into thinking he was merely aloof.

It wasn't enough to fool Jobal Nabeirre.

It took her all of an few seconds to come to this conclusion. She stood there, eyeing him speculatively, her head tilted and her fist propped underneath her head. But inwardly, just like her daughter Sola, she felt a spark of gleeful interest. What was it about this man, Padmé brought with her, home, no less? Was there something else in their relationship?

"Well." She finally burst into motion, clapping her hands to together, and making for the kitchen. "I hope you're hungry, Skywalker."

"Fairly." His voice was low and quiet, reserved almost.

"He's being polite mom, we're starving." Padmé clarified, as the family drifted to the seats, while Ryoo and Pooja, having ate already, ran outside to play.

"Well, you came to the right place." Ruwee, her husband took his seat at the head of the table, while Skywalker respectively took the seat next to him. Padmé already had sat down on his right, her eagerness palpable. Jobal turned back to the kitchen, bringing out the last dish that had been left when Padmé had arrived.

After the food had been distributed, and they were all sitting comfortably in their seats, Sola finally decided to speak, her mischievous side displaying itself at it's best. She swore, she sometimes thought her daughter was incapable of subtlety. "So, Skywalker, do you know you're the first boyfriend Padmé's ever brought home?"

Jobal made move to reproach her daughter, but Padmé beat her to it. "Sola, stop it. Skywalker is a friend and nothing more."

Jobal already knew that Sola was going to say something before she did.

Sola had a habit for delving into Padmé's life affairs with vigor. An romantic at heart, Sola had the infinite love for scandal, at any form she could get it. When Padmé left to peruse her political career, Sola had been devastated. By no means was she unhappy for her sisters success, but the thought of Padmé never getting married! The atrocity!

It made sense, her concern, however. Jobal had often worried about her daughter's future. Looking at Padmé was different even now, and the stress was apparent. Her brown eyes, once so full of fire, had dulled, becoming almost resigned, and although they looked happy on the surface, she sensed a deep melancholia in them. Her face had lost it's youthful positivity, being replaced by the fierce determination of a woman and shrewdness. She looked older, but every bit as beautiful, even more so.

Still she couldn't forget that spark that her eyes, that spark that was now gone.

And try as she might, she could not forgive.

"Well. That still has it's possibilities." Dear Force, had she raised the girl with no filter, subtly, or tact?

Jobal opened her mouth to object. "Sola-"

Her eldest was quick to defend herself. "What? It was an harmless comment."

Jobal and Ruwee glanced at each other, the latter determined not to say anything.

Padmé took a breath, her chest elevating a few moments as she closed her eyes and counted to ten quietly under her breath. When she apparently had gotten herself under control, she turned to look at Sola firmly, her gaze stern, and when she spoke her voice was deathly quiet. "I have said this once, I will say it again and no more. No, Skywalker and I are not in a relationship of any kind that goes beyond platonic. He is here with me because he decided to take leave away from Imperial Center."

Jobal glanced at Skywalker but his face remained the same.

He was merely observing.

Ruwee spoke finally after having sat down, and him being an rather quiet, observing man, her words were always spoken with careful deliberation. "Yes, um, about, um, speaking of Imperials,-" he paused, glancing at Padmé. "About Vader specifically.."

Aloof passiveness faded, Skywalker was suddenly completely and utterly focused on her husband with searing intensity.

Hmm.

Padmé sighed, like she expected this to happen. "I already know Dad, and I can assure you, it's not what it seems. We'll talk about it later, I promise."

Jobal and Ruwee exchanged looks again, Ruwee conceding with a simple nod, and the subject was dropped.

Jobal decided to restore peaceful talk. "So, Skywalker, are you married?" She made sure her words didn't sound nosy or suggestive, keeping her tone merely pleasant.

He smiled, calmly, oh so charmingly at her, and she was taken aback by it. He really was an handsome young man. No wonder Padmé was friends with him. "As females generally avoid me, I find my myself left bereft of feminine companionship. I've never found it necessary." It was so entirely odd of an answer that she found herself confused.

And curious.

She glanced at Padmé, who was wearing the expression that exactly mirrored her thoughts at the moment.

Well.

"Kids?" Sola had no hesitation in her interest.

Padmé opened her mouth to object, but suddenly paused, looking unsettled as though the thought had never occurred to her her.

Well.

"None."

Padmé looked slightly relieved, but still seemed mildly troubled.

"None?" Sola raised her brows. "You're sure about that? I mean-"

"Sola!" It was quietly spoken but carried the same reproachful tone. Jobal stared at her in reprimand, her own brows raised.

"No, it's fine. But, trust me, if I had children, I would most definitely know."

"How?"

"Sola!" Padmé was growing irritated, she could feel it. "Don't-"

"How is Coruscant, sweetie?" Jobal quickly redirected the conversation.

"Like Coruscant. It never changes."

"Is that all?"

Her dark eyes met her daughter's and she could see the strain in them. "I don't know what else to tell you."

Her poor, sweet girl.

It was Padmé who spoke again, finally. "So, how is Darred, Sola?"

Jobal kept quiet most of the dinner, just happy to be in company with her family, reunited.

It was the best thing he could have asked for.

And while she did that, she made a mental to watch this 'friend' of Padmé's, with the same attentiveness that he watched them.

* * *

She took in her fill of his tall figure, shamelessly perusing him from her vantage point. The way he held himself while still, his hands clasped together behind his back, straight and alert. The mix of browns and black was unfamiliar to her, yet she enjoyed it all the same, admiring the way his clothes emphasized his form, from broad shoulders, trim waist and long legs. The warm of the sunlight made his hair appear almost golden, the flaxen strands just brushing the back of his collar.

It often amazed her that such people like Skywalker existed.

The force was incredibly cruel, sometimes.

Eyes were probably the most crucial and most fascinating part of the body. One could stare into them for hours, taking in the precise design of such brilliant contraptions.

The iris, made of the dilatory and sphincter muscles, was perhaps the most interesting part of the eye, coming in kinds of hues, from iridescent to solid. The iris had the responsibility for helping regulation of the main attribute of the eye: sight, man's visual perception. The color of the iris depended on the amount of melanin in it, the same substance that determined the hair color, and skin tone of one's body. The iris's main job was providing the perfect amount of sunlight to enter the pupilla, or pupil.

The pupil, a seemingly dark entrance to infinity was the middle part of the iris. The pupil, in order to properly display vision, had to expand and contract, and for this, it had the help of the iris.

The cornea, and transparent layer covered over both the iris and the pupil. Despite the constant layer of tears to keep it hydrated, it was the thinnest of layer and most dehydrated on the human body. The slick layers of tears gave the eye it's watery appearance, emphasizing the beauty of the colored disk of the iris.

But eyes were not just pretty to look at, they were one of the most fundamental part of the human body. And even further than the miracle of sight, they held emotion, more than any singular part.

And nowhere in Padmé's research could she recall an singular person of the entire human species who eyes varied from blue to gold.

He looked human.

Vader said he was human.

He had said he was human.

He acted like he was human.

And he hadn't acted like he was human. That is, if soundlessness and the ability to disintegrate counted.

Some strange, enigmatic, stealthy humanoid, but not exactly human.

It didn't make sense.

She bit the inside of her lip, her former pleasant ogling turning to sharp confusion, straight brows coming down and drawing together as she cocked her head ever so slightly to the side. Her silky brūn hair fell from over her shoulder, and she dully registered the transition of weight in the thickness of her curls. A tiny wrinkle formed in the crevice between her brows and the bridge of her pert nose. Her pink, slightly full lips were pursed ever so slightly, and a thoughtful look danced in her eyes.

So many questions, so little answers.

Tonight.

Tonight, she'd get the answers she craved.

All of them.

It was shameful how little she actually knew about him.

"Why haven't you told us about him?"

Sola.

Her sister's and her mother's entrance into the kitchen quickly pulled her from her thoughts. Quickly turning from her viewpoint, Padmé mentally prayed her sister hadn't noticed her watching. If she had, she'd never hear the end of it.

"I haven't been communicative of late in general." That was true. She didn't know how it had happened, but she'd been so caught up in work, and her own issues, and, if she was truly honest with herself, she'd been caught up in him. He had made her like this. "Besides, he's just a friend. I didn't think I was obligated to tell all about him."

"A friend?' Incredulity laced the tone of her voice, the sound mirroring her thoughts. Yes, officially friends, but there were so many unanswered things between them, things that questioned they definition. Physical reactions that marred her theory. Emotions that he stirred up in her so strong, so powerful, they completely wrecked her, demolished that haze that she lived in, made her body thrum with life and her blood and heartbeat all she could hear in the silence. He played her until she was left dizzy with delightful, sinful euphoria that he messed up her her mind with, intrigued her until she was obsessed.

How?

She was overly sensitive from lack of male attention.

Simple.

The burning sensation she'd experienced when when Vader had put his hand on her proved that.

It still puzzled her. She should have felt repulsed, disgusted. But instead her entire body felt squirmy, like she had wanted to slink right of her dress. It felt almost the same, the magnetic way he had started possessed her mind until she would he could manipulate her any way he wanted.

It also worried her. Whatever caused searing heat to flare through her at just a memory needed to leave, now. It wasn't healthy. And probably would lead to one too many impulsive decisions.

But why was she fighting it when it feel all to good?

"Padmé!"

Her eyes snapped to Sola, her gaze sharpening immediately. She internally dammed herself for getting so caught up in her thoughts."Yes?"

"Are you okay? You seemed to be in a dreamland all of your own."

Kark.

He made her like this.

"Sorry." She smiled, very briefly, the levity of the situation not missing her. She could not allow him to control her so fully she forgot about the world around her.

She couldn't.

Clearing her throat and ignoring her mother's raised eyebrow she turned to the sink, beginning to wash the dishes, an horrible choice of occupation, she soon learned, since the window was right above the sink.

This was why she fought it.

So she would not let her thoughts and feelings be overcome by him.

Heaven knew what would happen if she admitted defeat.

Vader may be gone, by Skywalker was here, and every bit the threat. She needed to have her guard up.

She could practically feel her sister about to speak, so she cut her off before she could speak. "So, how is married life, Sola?" Padmé inwardly cringed at her lack of subtlety in changing the subject.

"Padmé."

"He's a friend, for the last time, so please, can you just drop it?" She didn't mean to be short with her, it just happened. Regret and shame instantly washed over her.

"Sola-"

Sola held up her hands in surrender. "No, you're right. I overstepped. I'm sorry."

Sola, far from offended, excused herself to gather the rest of the dishes.

Silence.

Padmé tried to ignore her mother's gaze, turning back to the dishes until she felt her mother's hand on her shoulder.

"Padmé, while your busy trying to convince yourself, take it easy on others. We can see the conflict as well as you feel it."

* * *

She was...empathetic.

Vader watched her in amused fascination as she explained to her family that aside from those few encounters, she and Vader had never conversed. Ever.

She truly believed that.

He supposed she should. He'd never given her any reason not to.

Words were lost to him. She was talking, but he couldn't repeat a word she said, too busy watching her.

She was...passionate.

Her words were punctuated by the fervent motions of her hands, as if to illustrate her words. She could barely be larger than 5'4, and with her petite figure, her feet barely touched the floor. The smooth expanse of her stomach was clearly visible due to the two-piece outfit she wore, exposing the subtle curves of her waist. Her profile was one worthy of admiration, and he studied her, drinking in every aspect of her face and aligning it with her psyche. Form the length of her lashes decorating along the rim of her expressive eyes to the smooth curve of her bare calve peeping through the slit in her skirt, he memorized it.

She was...exquisite.

Exotic and so entirely different to him, from her lightly tanned skin, nimble body and her hair, that glorious mane that fell down her waist, all rich curls and softness. He didn't know what came over him, but the first time he saw her, all he wanted was to touch it, just sink his hands in it and feel the silky strands under her his fingers. Force help him, he was mad, but just couldn't refuse himself that one pleasure. So, he'd caved, and allowed himself to touch just that tiny part of her. He'd stolen all the pins from her hair that night, just to see it sway free of restraints. Then he'd kissed her, because he couldn't help himself and because he'd wanted to.

It was the probably the stupidest thing he'd done. Then he'd had her home so he wouldn't molest and ravage her they way he'd wanted to.

Badly.

That particular wish had never been a common one for him, but the moment he recognized it, he was determined to have what he wanted, rather than trying to shun his desires (a useless task), but only in one way. He was above seducing her in her ignorance, of course he had some dignity. No, he would lay it all bare before her, making sure she completely knew exactly what he was, and then he'd let her come to him.

She will accept him whole or nothing.

It should be alarming to think that she would know all. Every little dark thing about him, but it wasn't. Instead, if was what he preferred.

She'd get used to it the more...darker...terms he associated with.

Jāuhn had.

Sort of.

The unfortunate man had had the pleasure of walking in on one of Vader's...meditations...

Besides, it was an utility, not him.

It was just like an religion, or such. With power, however.

He suddenly frowned, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

Evil.

 _Was he evil?_

Palpatine had been evil. An deranged, evil, sadistic maniac, bent on growing more powerful to accomplish his own ends. Power to control the galaxy in the way he pleased, in a way that would gain him more power.

 _But was he evil?_

He knew what evil was. Palpatine had been the epitome of evil. But he wasn't like Palpatine. Or at least he was he didn't think he was. He didn't feel like he was. Vader never knew if Palpatine mentally ever tried to justify his feelings. Or if he ever felt like he needed to. Vader had himself given himself up from censure, realizing that he was to far gone. Ruthless mercilessness had overcome, and he was deaf to the screams and sounds of terror. The smell of blood and the lifeless bodies that would lay around him held no significance or interest to him except the use of their possessions. His first kill, a young female little older than himself had lain before him, and he felt no remorse.

Did that make him evil?

Feeling an odd lack of compassion for all things wasn't exactly definable as evil? He did what he did with purpose, with duty, and his heartlessness was very helpful.

No one who is evil thinks they are.

His face darkened insurmountably, his eyes hardening into sharped ice as the unaffected passiveness left in an instant.

But he wasn't an killer without reason. He killed those who were traitors. All that were not involved were let free, the fatherless and motherless looked after.

 _And do you do that to ease your conscience?_

No. He did it because although he didn't have a conscience, he knew reason.

If he hadn't, where would Slevla be?

Still an prostitute against her will, living in the same cruel way she'd been forced into as a child.

She'd been dealt a cruel life, but she had many years left to forget.

After all, she was only about to become seventeen.

But those things, those were the things that unleashed the fury inside of him. His life had been cruel one, and to see it in various ways to others made him angry.

That wasn't like someone who was evil, as far he knew.

He was merely mildly dark, that much he was aware of.

Vader was pulled sharply out of his musing when he felt surges of warmth coursing through him, steaming out from the soles of his boots up his spine and seeping from his fingertips.

His eyes dropped to his arm, and sure enough, hardly perceptible elegant lines paved by an unknown artist were beginning to curl up his forearm.

Ah, yes.

As much as he wanted to draw on that power right now, it was not the time.

His blinked passively, calmly, and the gold in his eyes was gone. Scanning the room, he deduced that no one had noticed, except...

The youngest daughter of Padmé's sister sitting on the other couch looked at him in concentration, staring oddly into his eyes. She'd seen gold, and now she was confused.

Vader sighed quietly, directing his attention to Padmé, as the child was of no importance.

"...other than that time, we've had no communication." Amidala turned to him, her brows raised ever so slightly, as if she was waiting for something. She wanted him to back her up. Why? It wasn't as though he'd been there.

Lair.

Vader made the only response he knew how. Placing his hand on her neck, he dragged her forward until her face was inches from his, he placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

When he pulled away, he was pleased to see the same dazed confusion on her face.

Ignoring the shocked looks from her family and Amidala herself, he stood, retrieving his comm. from his pocket. "Forgive me, I have a few calls to make."

Retrieving his boots and his robe only, he exited the house.

It got dark early on Naboo, the sun already beginning to go down only hours after lunch. Purple themes lit the skies and tinged the cotton clouds, golden rays shining through the leaves of the tree spanning over the Nabeirre's large backyard. The grass, lush but freshly cut crushed soundlessly under the firm pressure of his black boots as he stalked towards the large old but well kept shed a ways from the house. Vines had crawled up the sides of the grayed wood, the rustic exterior tempered by it's natural beauty.

His robe surrounded him, drowning him it it's darkness free of hands, by thanks to the Force, wrapping around him as he walked like a blanket. The door slid open roughly, scraping as it did, allowing him to enter without raising a hand.

The inside of the shed was very similar to an stable, with stalls and hay, the sweet smell tinging the room. It wasn't very large, the open area about the size of the Nabeirre's dining room, with reasonable space between the stalls. There was six stalls, three on each side, probably large enough to an small shaak in each.

He scrutinized it with a trained eye. He looked up.

The ceiling had been covered over with another layer, hiding the frame from view. In the corner was a ladder, and above it was an opening.

Perfect.

He took to the ladder with the ease and grace of and cat.

* * *

The sound of her sister's sniggering was like nail on a chalkboard, a scratched disk playing over and over and over again.

She'd wanted to forget.

She wanted to forget how he made her feel, how he robbed her sense of time or importance, how he sucked her into his whirlwind.

Then he kissed her, and her plan shattered.

She was so stupid.

So stupid thinking she could hide from him when his mere presence affected her so much.

She safe, safe from Vader, but not from him. He had the power, and he didn't even know it.

She needed to stop this, but not the way she had intended before.

Barefoot in the grass, she felt in under her feet as she ran.

Then she stopped suddenly, her dark curls swing over her shoulders and her back as she looked over the yard.

Where?

Her gaze fell upon the shed, noting the door was cracked.

Why would he go out to the shed to make a comm. call?

The main room was empty, so she made quick work of the ladder.

Then she heard voices.

Padmé stilled. Forcing herself to be as motionless as Vader could, she felt suspended in midair. An hair's breath away from the opening her wide eyes fixed on the edge right above her vision line. The slim cords in her neck flexed as she remained in her achingly still stretched position. Her body began to tremble lightly and she willed herself to stop. Her arms ached, but she still forced herself no to move.

"...yes, Milord." An crisp female voice caught her ears.

Milord? Milord?

"I want more information Mo'an. It''s your job to see that I get it. Do you understand?" It was Skywalker voice she now heard, but he didn't sound normal. His voice was heavy and sharp with frustration, radiating his dissatisfaction while never raising.

What was going on?

"Yes, Milord."

An soft crunch of the hay below her made Padmé look down in horror. Relief flooded her when she saw it was only one of the family cat Nakli, an jet black male tom. His luminous green eyes eyed her with interest as he sat, his paws in front of him and his tail flicking lazily at his side.

Skywalker's dispassionate tone brought her back to her 'investigation.' "Has Jāuhn found anything yet?"

Jāuhn? He couldn't mean Admiral Paddit, could he? The one who was constantly around Vader?

"I believe not, milord."

An irritated growl of impatience met her ears. "Contact me again when you have news."

"Yes, milord."

Padmé stared at the ceiling with furrowed brows. The entirety of the situation irked her curiosity more than she'd like to admit.

Nakli meowed.

Padmé looked at him, her former horror returning.

"...Wait! I mean...will you be returning home soon, sir?" The woman, whoever she was, spoke again. Why was she calling him milord? Was she his servant? Colleague? Fellow assassin?

"Within an fortnight. Why?"

"No reason. I shall comm. later, Milord."

Nakli meowed louder, more insistently. Padmé mentally cursed the tom in her head.

Judging by the silence, she deduced that the call had ended.

She waited.

One minute.

Two.

Three.

Then, slowly, slowly, she eased her leg down, finding the rung with her foot, hyperaware of the rough wood under the soles of her feet. Testing it lightly, when she was assured that it would remain quiet, she stepped down.

Nakli was quiet.

Only a few more.

Focusing her gaze on the rungs beneath her, she counted them her mind as she didn't dare say it aloud. When her bare foot hit the hay, she sighed in relief. Freezing her body, she listened.

Nothing.

Slipping through cracked door, she waited, her mind ablaze with questions.

Then, she ran.

 **A/N: Peace.**

 **xx, Christi.**

 **Fun Fact: We are getting a COW!**

 **Word Count: 5428**


	23. XX: Confusion, Tension And Revelations

**A/N: After the last chapter I couldn't wait to update, so here we go. Enjoy!**

 _His eyes clashed with icy cold blue eyes that were fiercely familiar, a shiver ran down his spine._

 _"Hello, Kenobi."_

Cold.

That was the only way he could describe it. The sensation that gripped him was like chills, causing his scalp to tighten and his hair stand up on end. His body tensed, and his hand almost made to move towards his lightsaber.

He was taller than Obi-Wan, but not be more than a few inches. His hair was a dark blond color, and he was wearing dark clothes almost reminiscent of a Jedi. His eyes were blue, chillingly crystalline, but even more disturbing was his smile. Easy, pleasant, and downright malicious.

His presence in the force was blank. There no expression there at all, just blank, cold, and swept clean. Never had he sensed something like it. It was as though he dead, but still present. Warning bells went off in his head.

Obi-Wan didn't like it. At all.

And yet...

And yet...

He'd seen this man before.

Recently.

He was infinitely familiar, but for the life of him, Obi-Wan couldn't recall a singe scenario he'd seen him. And looking at his smile (if it could be called that), Obi-Wan was sure that it would have been something he would have remembered. And he never recalled Padmé having a six-foot-four blond cousin.

Who is he? Why is he here? How does he know who I am? Where's Vader?

The one consolation was that he knew that Padmé was here, in this house, and that she appeared to be unharmed, if a bit confused.

Obi-Wan squinted closer at the man's face, trying to place him. "I'm sorry, I was informed this was the Naberrie family resided..." He trailed off, gaze still questioning. "Do I know you?"

"Skywalker?" He heard Padmé's voice drift from the living room? Kitchen? He hadn't been to this house in years. "Skywalker, who's at the door?"

Skywalker. So that was his name.

Never heard of him.

Skywalker's head head turned a fraction, towards the voice and sound of fast approaching footsteps, his eyes lowering a minute before they snapped back to Obi-Wan, his smile becoming a far more pleasant one, smug, almost.

He stepped back, out of the way to allow her past. "Isn't that nice, Amidala? Your friend's here!"

"Ben!" Obi-Wan barely got a good glimpse of Padmé before she launched herself into his arms, knocking most of the breath from his lungs. "What, how are you here?" She pulled back from him to look at him. "I hope you haven't come all this way because-."

"Are you okay? You're not hurt? How did you escape? Is he still after you?" Obi-Wan checked her over for injuries just in case. It was still unreal for her to be so unharmed. He examined her face carefully. Her eyes were bright, her face flushed and happy albeit confused, and she looked as though being home on Naboo just for a few days had done her a world of good.

She blinked, her eyes luminous in the dark. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Confusion took hold of him as well. Wait, what? "I thought - I thought..." he caught a glimpse of her family over her head, watching with interest and concern.

And that man...Skywalker was watching too...and smirking.

Padmé laughed, hooking her arm though his jovially. "I think you're a bit confused Ben. Why don't you come inside?" She tugged him towards the door.

"Yeah, okay." He muttered distractedly, letting her lead him in, feeling as though they all knew something he didn't. Perhaps he'd been mistaken completely.

He locked eyes with Skywalker passing by him, whose haunting eyes followed him all the way inside. He almost stumbled, it was that unnerving.

No, he was not wrong.

He hadn't misread the signals Vader had been trying to send him.

Something was wrong here, now all he had to do was find out what.

* * *

Ben.

Ben Keio.

It had been Obi-Wan's fake name that Padmé always would use in the presence of company. Since few now knew what Obi-Wan actually looked like, except ruffians who were bound to have had a few run-ins with him, he could get away with using a fake name. He had been one of the hero's of the war, of course, but most knew him by name, only.

It was the same with almost everything that had any relation to the alliance. Those who were close to her knew, but not enough that they could ever be forced to give up any information, simply because they didn't know anything. They her handmaidens we're the ones who knew the most, but even they didn't know where the bases were, what their battle plans were, or their benefactors. Neither did her parents, or the queen, or fellow senators, besides the ones who were already gone or abducted. It protected them, from harm's way. If they were questioned, at most, they'd have no answers to be stolen.

But her parents knew enough.

And her parents knew Obi-Wan from before, so they were educated enough that when in company, he was referred to as Ben, Ben Keio from Stewjon.

It wasn't as if she didn't trust Skywalker, honestly she did, more than she probably should, and if she told him to keep her secret she knew he would, undoubtably. But she still felt that it was best just not to. She didn't need extra tension between them. Having different views already as it was. And since she was under a confidentiality agreement, despite the fact the fact that she though he would be trustworthy, others in the alliance might not have the same conviction, therefore she couldn't risk it.

Confusion.

It was everywhere. In her, in Obi-Wan, in her family, who were warmly greeting 'Ben.' Oddly enough, the only one not confused was Skywalker leaning against the wall in the darkest corner he could find, his eyes trained speculatively on Obi-Wan.

She decided to sort things out with Obi-Wan first, because he seemed the most bewildered, and he kept looking around as if he expected the shadows to jump out and grab him. Leading him over to the couch, she sat down, pulling him down with her. Turning so her body was angled towards him, she began. "So, now that we're sitting, tell me what's wrong?"

"I..." Raking his hands distraughtly through his hair, he tried to gather himself. She honestly was sort of shocked that he was here. Surely, the Alliance would have sent him to investigate over the little media hiccup, would they? They knew her better than that. He seemed to be choosing his word carefully. "I came to visit you, and when I arrived I was told you had been abducted, with no trace of your whereabouts. I sensed - I came here because this was the only place I could think of."

Padmé wanted to smack herself. Not only had she worried her handmaidens, but she'd completely forgotten to warn Obi-Wan in the very least, which would have easily allowed him to diffuse the situation rather than coming all the way here. He couldn't call her either, especially if she was in trouble, and when her handmaidens had, her comm. was off. Last minute planning left lots to be desired, she found. "But why were you so afraid I'd been hurt?"

"Well, it's not customary for you to just leave without telling anybody, so we assumed you had been abducted. But...how are you okay? What happened to-."

"Listen, Ben, I'm sorry. Truly. In all honestly, I planned an entire vacation and completely forgot to tell anybody anything. It's just been so hectic, and I planned to leave, and then the entire news thing broke out, and I just up and left and...never even thought about warning anybody at all. I called my handmaidens as soon as I remembered, but they must have forgotten to tell me you were coming, and then weren't able to get in contact with you...and..." Suddenly she just ran out of steam. "I'm just sorry."

Obi-Wan stared at her a long time, his teal eyes full of relief and annoyance, and ironic amusement and anger all in one. "Do you even have the slightest - we thought Vader had abducted you!"

"Vader?" Padmé suddenly felt a thousand times worse. And a bit incredulous as well. "No, I haven't seen him since the ball, and he hasn't seen me either."

Skywalker chocked on a laugh behind her. The man laughed at the most odd comments.

"But you don't understand, he..."

"Yes?"

Obi-Wan briefly glanced at their audience, his gaze lingering particularly on Skywalker. He too suddenly seemed to run out of steam. "Never mind."

Jobal, who watched the exchange as she preferred to do most things, quietly and rapturously, finally spoke. "I'll go prepare another bedroom. In the meantime, Ben, why don't you sit down and eat? We were just finishing dinner, so the food's still out."

"Thank you."

Jobal waved him off. "Eat."

It didn't take long before they were again seated at the table, while Padmé removed everything that was ready to be put away. But after she finished, and sat down at the table just to sit, she noticed a strange tension in the room, originating from Obi-Wan and Skywalker especially. She also realized the the latter was unusually quiet, having not said a word since the former arrived, save what he told her earlier.

Come to think of it, his words from earlier were particularly odd. Her gaze snapped to Skywalker suddenly, remembering how he had said something similar only moments before Obi-Wan arrived. He couldn't possibly have known that, could he? He always had a knack for knowing when she was present, but this...it wasn't possible he'd known? Was it? Had he really been babbling nonsense or did he actually know?

How?

"Padmé, you never told me about your blond cousin." Obi-Wan never lifted his gaze from Skywalker's, focusing on him intently. The tension level in the room was suffocating.

It a moment for her to understand his meaning.

"Oh, yes, forgive me, this is Skywalker, a good friend of mine who took the time to come with me on this trip. Skywalker, this is Ben, a friend of mine since I was fourteen."

"Nice to meet you." Obi-Wan said, the smile he flashed not loosening the tightness around his eyes.

"A pleasure. I'm sorry to have mistaken you with someone else." His voice was unusually silky, his velvet tongue rolling of the words so smooth it made her shiver, but for some unknown reason, it seemed almost...threatening.

What was up with them?

The Stewjon master gave another artificial smile, his eyes as cutting as Skywalker's. "So, Skywalker, how did you two meet?"

Padmé was about to answer for him when he did. "We saw each other first at an ball, but at time she didn't know me, it was a over a year ago. We only recently got to know each other when she happened to come into the opera booth that I was using, unaware of my presence. We met back there several times after that, then she randomly asked me to accompany her to Naboo."

Padmé stared at him, flabbergasted. They'd seen each other before? A year ago? She didn't remember seeing him then. In fact, she didn't remember what ball they would have possibly met, or seen each other. And she certainly didn't remember ever seeing him. True, she didn't remember everyone that she met at those balls, but there was no way she wouldn't have remembered him. Thinking about it, she only went to very few galas that year, the majority of them were restricted to members of the senate, and she knew he wasn't a senator. He had freely enough shared his imperialist views, stating that the senate was by far too slow and undecided for him.

Her furrowed brows twitch imperceptibly, her head tilted to the side as she considered this, bewilderment clear in her eyes.

When?

He had freely enough shared his imperialist views...

Her mind stuttered on that, and she immediately reviewed the thought, her subconscious significance warning her to think more closely on it.

Imperialist...

He was that, she knew, he valued that lifestyle, that government, that order, that...power. Hell, he seemed to even carry himself in that an Imperial would. Vader had once even mention that he had some entanglement with the empire. Good or bad, she didn't know, but she wouldn't have been surprised if he had done some form of mercenary work under their command. However, he did say that he stole an Imperial ship, so she still wasn't sure.

Imperialist...

The Empire's Forth Anniversary Gala! It had been open to all, so anyone could have come, though it was mainly politicians, Imperials, and people of royalty, and people of wealth and standing. Those who were in favor of the empire and those who wanted the empire's favor.

And he was most definitely (much to her dislike) was in favor of the empire.

"Really?" Obi-Wan's tone lightened a bit with interest, a hint of amusement tinging his tone. "Sounds like something Padmé would do. She's always been really impulsive like that."

Padmé clicked her tongue at him, quietly disagreeing.

Skywalker's comm. started beeping. He stood abruptly. "I have to take this, excuse me."

Padmé was suddenly reminded of the comm. call she overheard earlier that she never got a chance to ask about due to her mother...and what happened in the kitchen.

Her cheeks warmed.

With Obi-Wan's appearance she'd almost completely forgotten about that.

The moment Skywalker disappeared Obi-Wan turned to her, his face disturbed. "Who is he?"

Padmé looked at him, startled by his question. "I already told you, he-"

"No, Padmé, who is he?"

Lost.

Padmé stared hard at him, her straight brows pulled down ever so slightly, her pink lips parted as she tried to form words, but none came.

She didn't know.

She honestly didn't know.

He was an enigma still to her, an confusing, enrapturing, whirlwind of an enigma. She didn't know what he was, or who he was. His thoughts were secret to her, and she ached, she physically ached, like a circle in her chest had been hollowed out by a blunt object to know him. She wanted him, all of him to be known to her. It hurt not to know. She wanted no mental barriers, no emotional, none. She wanted to know him fully, to not feel as though he didn't feel as if she wasn't worth enough to know. He could read her so well, unearth all her secrets, yet she knew nothing about him.

And yet, she did.

She noticed the small things about him, the tiny aspects that made him. Things that no one else knew.

But who was he, really? What did he do? What was his name? Where did those scars come from? How was he able to do the thousand unexplained things he did? What were his goals in life?

She hesitated too long. "Padmé, who is he to you?"

Yes, thank you, who was he to her? At first a supposed fantasy, then handsome man that to be admired and taken in stride depending on the way things go, then a friend not to be admired, then a friend who was admired secretly, then a friend she wanted to be more than friends, and now...she didn't even know what she wanted.

Except she did.

 _Him_.

In ways a friend should never want.

She decided to play poker face, giving him a quizzical look as she pushed back her chair, putting her feet up on the table so they were crossed at the ankles. "My friend?"

"Padmé...I-" Obi-Wan ran his fingers though his hair, a habit of his when his was well and truly distressed, at not sure how to articulate it. "I don't like him. I don't like the feel of him. He hits me in a weird way."

Indignant defensiveness swept over her. She frowned. "What do you mean?"

Obi-Wan was frowning as well, looking off in the direction Skywalker left in. "He's just...there's just...there's something sinister about him. Something dark...and he's an void in the force, there but blank as if he was dead. And cold, just bone-chilling...I wish you could understand it, it's unlike anything I've felt before. You know how I said that personalities are like...colors, if you will? His is just colorless, like you're inside this wide open room, with illuminated white walls and ceiling with no doors or windows, and everything is bright and cold, so cold, and just empty."

Everything in her chilled at Obi-Wan's words. She could feel how he felt, and though she couldn't see what he saw, but she knew what side of him he was talking about. She'd seen it before, the darkness that crept over him and caused certain things in him to change. She'd seen his face darken and his eyes grow gold. She'd witnessed the strength and felt the force of his wrath on the bruises on her neck. He wasn't generally ever angry a her, in fact, he rarely got angry around her ever, but she'd seen his temper come out when he'd relived the past. It's why his indifference from earlier didn't add up. He wasn't super easy to provoke, but was violent when provoked.

But not with her.

Obi-Wan's words...how was that possible? One could be cold, but there was no way it could affect him in the force, right?

"Ben?" Jobal peeked around the corner. "Just wanted to let you know that your room is ready, when you're ready. I put some of Ruwee's things in the room because I noticed you didn't bring anything with you."

"Thank you." He smiled warmly at her mother.

"You're welcome. We're gonna go on to sleep now, so goodnight you two."

"Night mom, love you. Tell dad I love him too."

"Goodnight Mrs. Naberrie." Jobal blew them a kiss before disappearing.

Obi-Wan lowered his eyes back to the table, sitting quietly a moment after she left.

Padmé took a moment to study him.

Every time she'd seen him since when she spent a few months on the base, under the pretense of being on an vacation, she'd noticed the steady growth of a beard. It slowly grew from a slight fuzz, to an short scruff of an beard, and now, it was full and neatly trimmed.

She found she liked it.

It suited him.

"Listen...Ben, I know he seems...strange to you, and different. But he's not as mysterious as he seems. Or rather, he is, but he's not as...well, you know, as he may seem."

Obi-Wan sighed again, looking back down at the table, his eyes unfocused.

Padmé gingerly lifted her feet from the table, uncrossing them as she did so. Standing, she gave him what she hoped was a calming smile. "We'll talk more tomorrow, alright?"

He nodded, standing as well, following her upstairs to their rooms. Just as she was about to enter her own, she turned back, glancing at Obi-Wan again. "Ben?"

"Yes?"

"Goodnight."

He smiled genuinely at her, his face lighting, the glow of warmth radiating in his teal-grey eyes. "Goodnight Padmé."

* * *

Darkness.

Void.

When he was a little boy, he was afraid of darkness.

Afraid of being alone in the darkness. Or rather, afraid he wasn't alone in the darkness.

Now, it almost made him laugh to think that he had been afraid of sinister beings of the night and now he was one. He was what terrified people in their sleep, and robbed them of it. He was the demon that had sprung from the shadows and felt most comfortable in it's elusive depths.

Cool luminescent white light was the first to make him visible, lighting his form as he stepped into the moonlight's path shining through the window, making his skin glow, his eyes a pale crystalline blue and his lashes appear an iridescent white. He was invisible save where the light could reach him, casting an white glow over his face and defining the muscles of his chest and torso. Trees near the window split the lights as he nears, striping him with their patterns.

Vader was the demon that traumatized the others so much they hid from him.

And yet...

He had his own demons. Demons that tormented him and caused the darkness in him to churn. Demons that haunted him, made his laugh only an form of amusement at the naïvety of others. Demons that hid away at times and crept over his like the dark spirit of murderous rage that drove men to insanity. Demons that never truly left, constantly blackening his thoughts. Demons that made him explode from the inside out, causing the ground to shake and buildings to level with their foundation.

They were the black mist that surrounded him, that etched themselves into his skin, that took control of his vision, that thrummed in his chest for destruction, and the intense nothing instead of feeling after the kills had been made.

They were memories.

Memories he couldn't shake. Things he couldn't unsee. Pain he couldn't forget, that the slightest thought was so vivid the knife still felt wedged between his ribs. Feelings he barely new yet remembered so clearly.

He was calm.

Always.

Except when he wasn't.

And he needed, needed to let it out sometimes.

Why...why did no one understand that? Understand him?

He stood tall, straight and strong, the air he gave unfazed and unapproachable. His eyes were sharp, yet they saw nothing, his lashes never wavering. His face was built of stone, not at all in expression, but in the lack feeling displayed. His mouth never uttered a word, and his body was solid as if he was a statue made of the foundation of rock grown up from the ground, countenance unyielding. The presence that surrounded him pulsed with power, with restrained force. It was what made him alive, when he would have been thought unshakable.

Because he never let them see.

He shut off the world. He liked it better that way. And yet, though he breathed under the surface, swelling within until he detonated, he wished, that someone knew him, someone understood.

He didn't like to talk, yet, he wanted someone to know, someone who could...calm him.

Make him stable...once more.

Jāuhn helped some. He calmed him, though he knew not the whole story, he understood.

Those demons had destroyed him. They gnawed on him from the inside out until they completely ate out all that was left, leaving him bereft and hollow, then filled him with their darkness, until he was an demon himself, a bomb that kept ticking.

. . . . . . . . . ...

 _When he was a little boy, he was afraid of darkness._

* * *

 _When she was a little girl, she was afraid of darkness._

Her dark eyes roamed over the smooth, exposed skin of his back, barely visible in the darkness. Her unbound ringlet tresses was a solid black in the lighting, or lack of, contrasting with her ethereal luminescent skin, the lashes that adorned her eyes appeared thick and black. The visible skin of her neck, collarbone and shoulders glowed so pale in the moonlight she looked almost a ghost, standing only in her nightgown.

The fine, luxurious white silk she wore wasn't quite as sheer as the other one, nor a shift, the solid material embroidered hardly noticeably around the top and at the bottom of it, the needlepoint so tiny it could not be seen except from a close distance. It moved over her flesh with delicate brushes, molding to her like a second skin. It was was a harness style, looping around her neck and leaving her back exposed and glimpses at the side of her waist, before meeting the skirt which was long and had a natural tendency to slink around her skin.

They were such opposites.

Light, and dark.

His eyes are blue, like the waters of a clear beach the laps at the shore, her eyes are the brown, like the fertile earth below. His hair is golden, blond like refined strands of flaxen gold, hers is dark, long and untamed like mane of an regal cat. He wears plain black pants, while hers is white, adorned with embroidery and a spattering of jewels. His body it firm, muscled and hard where she is soft.

Her gaze traced the stripes just churning over his shoulders, the darkened marking that told of pain, of suffering.

Was she afraid of it still?

Stepping forward, her bare feet soundless on the carpet, she entered to room, the door closing silently behind her, she walked over the large bed, which she noticed had been meticulously remade. Steeping up on her tiptoes, she climbed gracefully onto it, the height making it only a bit more difficult. She sat with one leg under the other, her fingers curled around her calf, the one on top stretched out, her small foot cocked all the way straight like opera ballet dancer, waiting.

 _No, she wasn't._

He turned to her, his landing on her immediately, his face cast in half shadow, causing eerie shadows to darken his face.

A cold, delicious shiver lighted her spine, as though a thin rivulet of ice water crawled down her back. She beckons him closer with her eyes.

He started toward her, nearing her at a leisurely pace, yet with deliberate intention.

But here, alone, with him, in the dark, feeling her hair raise and her body warm and tingle, her nerves electrified...she wonders...

 _Was she now?_

That feeling came over her her again, where she felt like she was out of own body but suddenly hyperaware of everything. Her breathing seemed hazy and slow, but still so sharp was the feeling of her lungs drawing in a heavy sluggish breaths. She felt mute, as though words were gone from her, but there always was communication between them without words.

He was almost directly above her now, and she had to still tilt her head back to look at him.

Trying yet again to distract herself, she tilted her head to side, a small, uncontrollable tugging pulling her lips up into a smirk. "May I come in?"

He mocks her with his words. "No."

She eyed him curiously, feeling not in the least deterred by his humorous answer while none of it is visible in his face. She studied the icy pale blue of his eyes, wondering if he was he was half-serious. "I wanted to talk."

He sighed, almost resignedly, answering her inquiring thought. "Five, and five only."

She had five, just five answers to get out of him today, and she was determined to make them good.

But what to ask?

Everything she wanted to know flew to the surface of her mind so suddenly her brain short-circuited, unable to handle the plethora of thoughts suddenly racing to the surface, questions piling on top of each other she wondered how her brain could think so fast and only catch snippets of her confusion.

And yet...it was as if they all escaped her. Her chance was here, and she hadn't the slightest clue of what to ask.

So, clearing her mind, she began to rewind, from this moment back, recounting everything that confused her. Padmé's thoughts immediately raced to dinner, reminded of his unusually odd behavior minutes before Obi-Wan arrived and his continued tension in Obi-Wan presence (unusually odd because he was always odd, but then more than usual). "What happened at dinner?"

He sat down on the bed next to her, his brows furrowing as though he didn't quite understand her curiosity. "We ate."

Padmé gave him a long, long look. "I mean the part when you began acting all tense and silent and then started talking in riddles about 'my friend' and rushed out to the door when Ben came and saying he was my 'friend' you mentioned earlier and then was acting all strange and reclusive around him and left to answer a call and never came back. Ring any bells?"

"Ah. That."

"Mm."

"What's the question?"

"I just told you."

"No, I get that part, I want to know what's you question on it?"

Padmé narrowed her eyes at him, feeling as though he was trying to secluded her into letting him answering one part of the question rather than to explain it all. "Why were you acting so odd?"

Hah!

"He gave off a weird vibe." His answer was short punctuated with a indifferent tone that downplayed his former tension.

"Funny, he said the same about you." The moment the words left her mouth, she mentally kicked herself. She wasn't supposed to say that, ever.

"Did he?"

"Why did you ask me if he was coming when I never said he was?" The whole situation made her feel a faint uneasiness, simply because it was impossible.

"You did."

Her brows furrowed. "No I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

Padmé was lost. She hadn't even known Obi-Wan was coming, so she hadn't even had any reason to say something remotely similar. But then how did he know?

A nagging voice in her head intoned that he may be trying to convince her of something that never happened, but it made no sense. Why would he? What reason could he have? And if not, then how did he know?

It just wasn't possible.

But how did he know?

He had to have thought that she said that and Obi-Wan had happened to visit at the same time.

More questions.

But she wasn't going to linger, not now, there'd be more time for that later. "How did you know he was coming minutes before he did?"

He pondered her question for a long time, as if thinking how he should answer her without incriminating or exposing something about himself, the act alone making her wonder what. "I...he..."

He was rephrasing. He'd never done that before.

"I felt uneasy moments before he arrived. It's the best I can explain it."

Padmé studied him, carefully. He wasn't looking at her, his gaze focused on the floor. He wasn't giving off that detached attitude he usually was, instead just quiet.

His eyes were mostly hidden from her by his lashes, protecting his feelings. Her eyes traced the smooth raises and slopes of his cheekbones, over the cut of his jaw, then drifting down over his shoulders, the marks on them raised from his skin only slightly, seeming to be mildly rougher.

Similar words she'd recently heard from Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan was of course a Jedi, and yet he felt the same. He was unnaturally attuned to unseen, even unheard presences around him, reminding her of how he always seemed to know if she was near. Instinct? Training? Padmé herself seemed to have a hunch when crosshairs were on the back of her head, but this was beyond a little tingling on one's neck. This was pushing the borders of human.

What are you hiding, Skywalker?

Later.

She decided to forget Obi-Wan completely for right now, instead focusing on something else. "Where did those scars come from, Skywalker?" Her voice was surprisingly soft, even for her.

His eyes snapped to hers, apparently not expecting the question. "My..."

Who would hurt him? He was too old to be under the hand of an parent, and she couldn't even think who else would lay a hand on him. He didn't seem the type that would allow anyone remotely come close to touching him, let alone hit him.

She would have though they were from fighting if they weren't such obvious whip scars.

"I was a slave." His voice was low, as if he preferred she didn't hear him, avoiding her eyes again, instead focused on his hands. "I was born a slave, me and my mom was for a long time. My masters would beat me as often as they saw fit. I bought our freedom when I was thirteen, and we were fine until I was fourteen."

Padmé was fascinated. How did one human have so many sides and so much history?

"When...they...came for me, I had taken my mother and hid. They found me anyway. I was an amateur then, I had no idea of the...larger things in life. My mom tried to stop them. They killed her and took me anyway. I tried to stop them, but after they stabbed me I fell unconscious."

His fingers absently traced a line over his stomach, where she recalled seeing that surgical scar.

Another answer.

"Was that were..?"

"Hm?" He looked down, noticing his action. "Oh, yeah. This is actually my weak spot, it seems. I get stabbed often there. Or hurt in general." A humorless smile tugged on his lip.

Padmé's heart ached. She couldn't even try to smile.

"When they took me, they basically re-inslaved all over again. They weren't any kinder to me than my former owners, but by then I was used to it. They trained me there, if you can call that a bright side. I was given the best education and they taught me to fight. Or, rather, they taught me to kill. I turned it against them they never saw it coming before it was too late, I suppose."

He exhaled slowly, his gaze still distant. Finally he shrugged. "That's were they came from."

Final question.

"And do you find yourself better or worse off because of it?"

He locked eyes with her, and she could see every emotion in him so clearly her breath caught.

"I don't know."

When she was a little girl, she was afraid of darkness.

 **A/N: So, we're finally caught up, yay. Next update when I actually update.**

 **When I was a girl, I had a fear of spiders.**

 **(I thought about that scene the moment after I wrote and re-read Skywalker's part. Only some people will get it.)**

 **Happy holidays my sweet grubs! I want to give you guys some revelations for your holidays, even though I don't celebrate Christmas. Oddly, don't have much to say, so without any further ado,**

 **xx,**

 **Christina.**

 **Fun Fact: I shall from now on call you my sweet grubs, and because I want to, okay?**

 **Word Count: 5749**


	24. XXI: Addictions And Hide-And-Seek

**A/N: You guys still revved about Satine entering the story soon? Or finding out Camil's secret?**

Shavit.

He'd gotten her addicted.

In only one night.

She breaths in slowly, the rise of her chest an deliberate calmed action, in hopes to slow her heartbeat and mental capacity.

The soft sheet on the pillow top mattress beneath her silk negligée and the quilted duvet over her were smooth and unwrinkled to offer maximum comfort, so no lumps would impair her sleep. After endless annoyance and fiddling she'd braided her hair up, thus out of her way, and still, still sleep escapes her.

Her eyes were closed, still and quiet she lay, trying with all she was to relax.

But she was too awake. Her body, mind and soul all craved one thing, the safety and comfort of his body next to hers.

His...

Padmé bolted upright in her bed, thoughts of sleep forgotten completely.

He.

Him.

Skywalker.

She'd had five questions.

And not one of them had been about his name.

She groaned, falling back on the bed while scrubbing her face with her hands, cursing herself. Of all the things to forget lately, this took the cake.

And now she was awake again, thinking of all she'd learned and all she wanted to. Trying to banish it from her mind, banish him, she moved back to rest, again practicing her exercises of sleep.

Fifteen minutes later, she was tired and no where near asleep.

Throwing back her covers, she began to pace the length of her room.

This was madness. It was as though he had somehow robbed her of the ability to function without him, and at the same time his nearness made her dysfunctional. She had to stop it, but she didn't know how. She didn't want to.

Something was terribly wrong with her.

Something had been wrong with her ever since she met him. He'd messed up her head so she no longer thought straight, gradually poisoning her until he'd ruined her, ingratiating himself with her. Her life was a nightmare, a delicious, painful, sensual nightmare that she never wanted to leave and so strongly wanted to wake up from.

It was him...him and that demon, Vader.

Her desire for Skywalker, was natural, though problematic and unwanted. But the desire Vader stirred up in her was where she grew concerned. He should not be able to do that, her physical being shouldn't react to him, not when she knew who he was, what he stood for and what he'd done.

Was it possible that her desire for Skywalker had made her weak for all men?

Impossible. She felt nothing for other men, no feeling or passion, but somehow the one she couldn't want, and the one she shouldn't want attracted her. It was more than curiosity or intrigue, it was something more, but she didn't know what.

It quietly horrified Padmé that she could be attracted to two men, and at the same time. She never would think it possible, except for promiscuous woman of low morals and no shame that somehow happily felt lust in their system for any man to be attracted to two different people.

At the same time.

She understood confusion, or even a war between the safety of one and the attraction to the other, but to respond to both was...despicable. Disgusting.

At least she realized the danger of situation and the lowliness of it. It might help her.

It was Obi-Wan's mentioning of Vader that had brought him back to the forefront of her mind, and along with it memories, memories of his touch, of his presence, of his velvet tongue and sensual words. Her could just feel his gloved hands on her now.

He tried to throttle you, strangle you, you lov—lust-struck dimwit!

Still the feeling persisted, despite the fact she had only a while ago been enraptured with Skywalker.

Padmé threw herself down on the bed and screamed into her pillow. She was lost, unredeemable, unfixable. She'd fallen too far to fix.

She was gone for two dangerous, violent, sensual men, that were mysteriously similar.

She sat back up suddenly.

Unless...that was it. She had at type, an very specific type or liking for one unique person, but they were so similar she somehow was confused between the two of them. She liked Skywalker, of course, and that was why she felt the same way with Vader.

Which still left her with an troublesome attraction to both, one which she shouldn't have, to either, though one wasn't as bad.

It still shocked her how she could even feel that towards Vader, similar or not.

But how to stop it?

Easy. Eliminate feelings for Skywalker, in turn eliminate feelings for Vader.

Easier said than done. Hiding from him wouldn't work, and confronting him would be accusing him of something he never tried to create or, or wanted, in any case.

She could always be sensible later.

But right now, for one more day, or maybe the rest of their time on Naboo, she wasn't going to fight it. She had said she going to enjoy the rest of time she had with him, so she might as well just embrace her vacation without worries.

And she was tired.

She didn't realize that she had moved again until she standing in Skywalker's room that she'd subconsciously wandered to, to the thing that would bring her peace.

Padmé made her way over to bed, where he was sleeping. For a moment she just stood there over him, watching his sleep in the center of the bed, curled into a loose ball under the covers, pale moonlight shining over his face. She felt hesitated disturb him, especially because he seemed was genuinely asleep this time.

Gathering her nerve, knowing that she had to if she wanted to sleep at all tonight, she lifted the blankets, sliding under the covers so she was facing him, careful not to invade his personal space. She was just shifting to get comfortable, when he spoke, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin, his voice low and heavy from sleep. "Amidala?"

Padmé froze, her eyes large as she stared at him, the darkness making his face difficult to make out.

Should she answer?

"Yes?" It was a whisper in the dark, so soft she could barely hear it over the sudden stampeding of her heartbeat.

Skywalker's hand landed her waist, drawing her to him until she was inches from him, then rolling her over gently so she was facing away from him. His hand slid lower until it covered her abdomen whole, bringing her firmly to him, so her back was pressed against his chest.

The thin silk she wore was thinner than a sheet, making her acutely aware of the way he was pressed shirtless against her, the warmth of his body radiating to her. She could feel the firm muscles of his body pressed against her, the way his chest expanded with every breath. She could feel the heat of his exhale on the back of her neck so close it tickled. He still smelled of fresh clean masculine soap, for he apparently had taken a shower earlier. His one arm wrapped snugly around her, he moved the other to her hair, taking it back down until it was a loose mass around her shoulders.

Contented, he only tightened his grip on her and held her close, prepared to go back to sleep, just as another wave of sudden drowsiness hit her, and she found herself close to following, waiting for the simple command to send her over the edge, smiling as she got it.

Goodnight, Amidala.

And she was gone.

* * *

Surreal.

The sweet smell of fragrant flowers was present in the air, the sun shining down on the fields, bathing them in it's warm glow. The viridescent grass swayed softly, gently tossing against each other. The sky was a clear blue, an wispy, cloudy, canvas arching high, protecting all of Naboo with it's sheltering embrace, like the arms of a giant trying to shelter the world with an eternal promise of peace. Flowers littered the field, the colors of their delicate, soft petals ranging from the palest yellow to the deepest violet amethyst littered the field. Mountains stood tall in the background, like massive lords overlooking their treasures.

He has no being, only vision on all that happens.

She is singing, from where, he does not know, but he hears her voice.

He searches, his gaze wandering across the grass until he travels over her, singing quietly, softly, in her mother tongue, her voice low and melodious even without the effects of the music. It is broken without any instruments to make it flow, but the quiet significance of every lone word and the gentle loneliness of the sweet slipping of words from her lips made it beautiful in it's pausing way, the silence the best background melody.

Her shoes are soft silken slippers, which sit on the ground amounts the untamed, uncut grass, inches from her feet. Her feet are stretched out in it, feeling it under her her toes. Her creamy calves and thighs are almost completely exposed, blemishes and scars not found anywhere on them, the semi-pale skin smooth and untainted. Her dress skirt is raised just slightly, splayed out around her, it's violet color one with the vibrant lilacs around her.

Her dress has an simple style, made of a clean white linen, tightened at the waist by a delicate string belt, the skirt long and loose. She is reclined, laying propped up on her side on a large fluffy brown garb made of a expensive thick, wooly fur, reminiscent a cloak to be worn off the shoulders.

Her dark hair is braided up at the top of her head into a large bun, the hair loose at the back pulled up and weaved into the bun of braids. Large pale pink flowers adorn ether side of side of her hair. Two long braids hang over her shoulders from where the silken tresses are not captured up the bun, then are drawn back up in a loop to their origins, which are incased into slim-shaped shell based clasps, which disappear behind the flowers. The entire arrangement is delicate and precise, made with careful diligence and attention to detail.

She looks almost dead if it wasn't for her singing, for she does not move, yet her skin is flushed and rosy, the circulation of fresh nubian air like an healing balm. Her lips move softly, mouthing out the foreign lullaby, but her eyes are closed, her long lashes swept down across her cheeks. Her expression is serene, one lacking of worry.

She is just waiting.

The déjà vu of something bad approaching stirs in his throat.

She is carefree, spinning around in circles with her arms out as she sings more passionately, but her eyes are still closed.

Just waiting.

The sky darkens menacingly within moments, a breeze starting to pick up stronger warning of a approaching storm. It is strong now, but no rain falls, or thunder rumbles, just the tossing of the grass over the rolling hills.

She hugs her arms to herself, worry beginning to seep into her. Her eyes have opened now, and the world is darker around her, and dark stormy grey, flapping at her dress. She has wrapped her giant fur cloak around her now, the security and warmth comforting her. She glances around only minutely anxious, searching the open plain she stands in for whatever she's waiting for, not wanting to leave just yet.

Then she hears it.

It's a low hum at first, barely noticeable in the blowing of the wind at first, but soon growing louder. She looks to sky, squinting at the dark clouds above, but she sees nothing but darkened clouds.

Until she sees a shadow.

Several shadows.

They go from a vague blur to a solid form. They are triangles, longer at the end pointed towards her and shorter at the others. And in front of them it a much smaller shuttle, approaching much faster. Her gut churns, telling her to run, but she still hesitates.

The sky grows yet still darker.

Strong fog lights shines down through the clouds from the ship and as it becomes visible, she realizes what they are.

An Imperial fleet, all of the ships a pitch black.

Thunder rumbles through the sky.

She stumbles back in staggering realization, and then she starts running, streaking back towards the woods, towards help, towards safety, just as all too familiar faint screams of TIE fighter's engines hit her ears.

She runs as fast as she can, her heart pounding and her lungs burning with effort.

Little beads of perspiration start to dampen her skin, making it slick.

She trips on an hidden rock, causing her to stumble and warm blood to trickle down her calve, but she pushes past the pain, quickly regaining her feet, racing towards she shelter.

The sound of them is loud now, and she can hear two coming up close behind her, dangerously low to the ground. Wind batters against her, making her sweat become cold and chilling her, blowing the loose hair from her eyes. The woods are now close to her and she can see the dark safety of the tall, monster out trees that make up the forest.

She can hear them approaching her in mere seconds, overtaking her. She releases a small cry of pain as she ducks, rolling hard in the grass, dropping low and they pass over her by a few mere feet.

They streak straight towards the woods, firing off lasers, letting out a sudden revving pitch as they arch upwards, peeling away and over, explosive flames thundering in their wake.

Her escape is engulfed in flames, the orange-red mocking her with its burning, reflecting back on her dark eyes.

She has no where else to go.

Panic seizes her as well as exhaustion and a horrifying thought hits her with full force.

They're going to catch her.

She moves to stand again, but before she can run, she finds herself surrounded by clones. She whirls back to search for her escape, but the sight that greets her freezes her.

She only gets a glimpse of him, but it's more than enough.

The black clothes, the hood, and a flash of silver metal.

He raised one gloved out to her, and with a flick of his wrist, she falls unconscious.

As her vision quickly darkens, she feels his arm encircle her, and his voice. "I'm sorry things had to be this way, Amidala."

* * *

Obi-Wan's eyes flew open in the dimness of the room, soaked in sweat. He didn't move, just laid on his side, his gaze wide and unfocused.

Vader was coming for her, and Vader would have her.

He could feel it.

Obi-Wan sat up slowly, running his fingers though his hair, before leaning forward and placing his head in his hands.

This...Anakin's fate was intertwined with hers, and also with Vader's. Somehow, for some reason, she was caught in the middle.

And this would happen soon, since the dream that took place was clearly on the happened on Naboo. In some valley, surrounded by mountains and hills, with woods on either side. She would be wearing a white dress and would have a large brown fur.

He wanted to find those clothes and burn them, he wanted to find that field and outlaw her from it. Whatever he could do to make it stop happening. The thought of leaving her alone with Skywalker made him queasy. Whoever he was, Obi-Wan didn't trust him, and leaving them alone seemed a sure way to send her to her capture.

Padmé, sweet, harmless, beautiful, innocent Padmé, his sister.

His sister.

The only option was for him to stay here himself and stop her from doing anything foolish. And keep an eye on Skywalker.

But at the same time, Skywalker was keeping an eye on him. The longer he stayed here, the more he endangered the credibility of Padmé and her family. One slip of name and they were all doomed.

And he needed to find Anakin.

But the again, he couldn't leave Padmé alone with him, as completely oblvious to the danger this man brought.

And since she probably wasn't going to stay at her parent's place the full entirety of the trip, so she'd probably go to her lake house, which would leave her there. Alone. With him. On a private island. With lot's of valleys and fields.

His choice was clear.

He'd have to put his search for Anakin on hold, and devote his time to finding out exactly who this man was.

The morning rays brightened the room, peeking through the windows and shining through the curtains.

Starting now.

* * *

Warm.

The small, soft body wrapped around his radiated warmth, like a tiny heater. Soft breaths wafted over his face, the gentle expanding of...something under his arm and the thrumming energy that originated from it indicated life.

Life.

He ripped his hands away from it, jerking back and rolling of the bed, just nearly stopping himself from kicking it away and strangling it.

His first instinct ran deep.

If it lives, kill it.

He landed gracefully, falling into a crouched position with the elegance of a cat, one leg tucked under his body, the other stretched out to his side. It wasn't until he saw the flash of glowing red in his peripheral vision that he realized his lightsaber was alive in his palm.

He was to his feet it a instant, his saber nearly coming down in a vertical line though the bed.

Padmé laid there, sleeping peacefully.

His saber froze barely an inch above her body.

He shifted his hands on his saber, breathing deeply. His drawn brows twitched as he stared at her still form. It was as though something took possession of him that he couldn't move his blade away.

He wanted to kill her.

Slice her in half.

It was the way he'd been raised.

She exhaled, her head tuned to the side, her body relaxed and content, her hair a mass of rich curls on the pillow.

Instinct even now continued to urge him, though he recognized her. His hands tightened around the hilt.

Why couldn't he move it away?

He turned his face away, closing his eyes tightly, forcing himself to calm. His lightsaber deactivated.

Padmé sniffed, shifting.

He stared down at her, his eyes suddenly cold, compassion or remorse gone from him. His heart was dissolved, an icy fist in it's place. He suddenly felt removed from her as though she held no significance to him but the desire to ruin her. Break her. Destroy her.

He'd never craved death, except in these moments when instinct kicked in.

But for some reason, though he'd registered the false alarm, he was having a hard time letting go. He needed it to stop, now. He couldn't hurt her, he didn't want to, even if he felt he should.

Walking calmly to his bag, he placed his lightsaber safely in it's hidden pouch, as though what just happened didn't just happen.

Going to the window, he placed his arms behind his body, spreading is legs a few feet apart to get into a comfortable stance before slipping into a state of hyperaware slumber.

* * *

It took shorter than he expected to meet the mysterious 'Skywalker' again that he thought it would.

The moment his door opened and he stepped into the hall and looked towards the stairs, Obi-Wan saw him, standing right outside his door, at the same place he now was.

Their gazes collided, turquoise-grey on icy blue.

Neither moved for a long time.

He was the first to break, abruptly turning down the stairs quickly, leaving Obi-Wan alone in the hallway.

Obi-Wan stared after him, feeling as though he held the last piece to puzzle but there were no holes left, and Skywalker was that piece that just didn't fit.

Spurred by the need to find his place in all of this, Obi-Wan followed.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he quickly made his way downstairs, an aroma of breakfast foods hitting him the moment he touched the bottom step. Following the voices he heard coming from the kitchen, he entered the room moments after Skywalker had, though instead of entering the room, he rather stood at the door.

Jobal was busy happily explaining to Skywalker all that she was making for breakfast, which happened to be quite a lot. He listened quietly, standing in the corner with a large black mug in his hands.

For the first time, Obi-Wan realized that he'd switched his clothes all black, the material under the leather instead of the dark drown he was wearing the yesterday was now black. The style reminded him almost of that of a Jedi, but tweaked. It was also far to dark to be accurate.

His choice spoke volumes.

His eyes raised to Obi-Wan's, carefully blank and guarded, nary an emotion on his face as he assessed him. His eyes flicked down for a moment, then to Jobal, then back to Obi-Wan. He moved, shifting his position neutrally.

"I also made some shaak sausage, the patty kind as well. There's also hienta (pancakes), and eopie bacon, and I'm just about to add some-"

"Eopie?" Skywalker looked at her suddenly, the animal's name apparently reminding him of something significant.

"Yes." She turned from the stove to look at him. "You like it?"

He nodded.

"Good. I haven't had it in a long time." She turned back to the stove, he gaze passing over Obi-Wan before doing a double-take. "Oh, good morning Ben, I didn't see you there, how are you? Did you sleep well?"

Obi-Wan leaned against the door causally, assuming an relaxed pose. "I'm good and I did, thank you."

"That's good. Since you're here, do you mind watching the food for a minute while I go get everyone ready?"

"Sure." Obi-Wan moved to take possession on the stove while she slipped past into the dining room.

The moment she left, the house suddenly seemed exceptionally quiet.

"So...Keio, is it?" Skywalker drawled, his voice prickling with ice-laced hidden animosity, like a dagger wrapped in silk, taking a sip of his caffa. "What do you do?"

Obi-Wan smiled briefly, glancing at him over his shoulder, his actions carefully normal. "Actually nothing. I come from an noble family of...substantial funds, and as a result haven't a particular job. I occasionally do little...things...here and there, but nothing I would call a job. What about you?"

"Oh, you know. Government dealings. Mercenary work. One of those classified jobs that jobs that don't necessarily have a name."

Obi-Wan did know. The underhand working of the Empire. Spies. Secret organizations. Assassins. The nameless, faceless workers of the hidden secret half of the government. The kind that Vader called upon when needed.

It made sense that he would be entangled in something like that. He was too stealthy, to cunning and dangerous to belong to anything else. It his short time of knowing him, he still felt his hair rise every moment he was in the room.

Spies...

Assassins...

Padmé...

Danger...

Empire...

He was lucky he arrived as soon as he had, or who knew what would have happened her.

Skywalker tilted his head to the side, a cruel smile masquerading as a a pleasant tilting of the lips. "Is something wrong?"

Obi-Wan suddenly became aware that his face probably wasn't quite as pleasant as before at the moment and easily switched it. "No, not at all."

It was only by the gift of force-enhanced hearing that the light touch of Padmé's of her bare foot from stair to the floor was known to him, his head turning to the direction of the dining room.

The same second Skywalker did.

It took her only a second to enter the kitchen as well, wearing a cream colored long-sleeve dress, the shoulders cut out with single strips going across the shoulders, and a mildly low v-neck that exposed a little of her chest and was obscured by strips of fabric as well. Her sleeves weren't very loose, the fabric intentionally wrinkled and covering most of her hands. It was rather form-fitting, bodycon kind of style, the paneled design outlining her curves further.

Her hair was simply done (for her), just twisted in two buns, each split down the middle.

Obi-Wan mentally scowled. Did her clothes have to be so...revealing? Was it absolutely necessary for her to look pretty on today of all days? He generally didn't care what Padmé wore in the least, but with Skywalker around he suddenly grew into an anxious older brother that wanted him far away from her, and her dressed like a proper nun.

"Morning." She cast a vibrant smile at both of them, completely unaware of the inner spat going on. "What are you two talking about?"

The smile Skywalker gave her was disarming, his oceanic azure eyes sparkling light, the charm coming on as if it was a switch. "Nothing of consequence."

Obi-Wan raised his brows.

Skywalker moved towards her, dipping down to place a quick kiss to her jaw, at the same time maneuvering a cup of caffa into her hands. "I'll be back."

Then he was gone.

Padmé's gaze followed him, her eyes wide and disoriented and...dreamy.

"Ahem." Obi-Wan cleared his throat pointedly.

Padmé jumped a bit, blinking rapidly, her face reddening deeply when she saw Obi-Wan's expression.

"Padmé," He started off carefully. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

She blinked rapidly before shaking her head violently.

His eyes narrowed. Somehow, he didn't think that was the countenance of an guiltless person. "I see."

It couldn't be that bad, could it?

He needed to watch this, carefully.

* * *

Tense.

He must have thought he didn't see it, but he did. There wasn't a moment when Obi-Wan was in the room that he wasn't tense. He had this look in his eyes, careful and sharp, and though he was as calm as he wanted to be, he was still watching. He was almost lazy in his relaxed state, making no effort to appear the least engaging.

He sat back in his chair, one hand on the table, tapping a precise silent rhythm of on the table with his gloved hand. He looked right at home there as he would in the center of his lair Obi-Wan thought, a speculative look on his face, harmless but for the incriminating intensity of his eyes.

He was relaxed enough, posture wise, but he watched far to closely.

Obi-Wan had to admit, he was good.

His eyes weren't narrowed, and he wasn't staring too long at anything in particular, and he didn't turn his head to follow their every movement. No, his gaze moved through the room, but he was observing in far too much.

It reminded her of Padmé's father, who spoke little except to her mother in private, and only spoke when he felt it was important, though without whatever secret, dark motive Skywalker had brewing in his eyes.

To her, was all soft words and indulgent smiles, with him it was velvet death and hidden malice.

Or was it the other way around?

He didn't know.

Why?

The question that haunted him endlessly.

Obi-Wan engaged in easy conversation with her parents, though more so with her mother. Padmé listened quietly, as did her mysterious companion, who had somehow managed to inhale his food without being seen doing it.

It wasn't until Jobal said something to Padmé that she entered the conversation. "So, Padmé, I heard there was something going on between you and a certain young man. Are you going to tell us?"

Padmé stared at her blankly.

Jobal sighed, deciding to prompt her a bit. "Another senator, Rush Clovis I think his name was."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Rush Clovis?"

Ruwee murmured disagreeably under his breath at the name.

Skywalker leaned further back in his chair, his eyes narrowing minutely.

"Yes, do you know him?" Jobal ignored her husband's muttering, turning to Obi-Wan instead. "I don't know much about him, except Ruwee saying he's a notorious womanizer."

"He is. It's basically all he's known for, two-timing and womanizing. He also was said to have interests within the Empire, before it came to place."

"Imperial bastards." Ruwee helped himself to more hienta. "Using their political power to place themselves above the law and shamelessly abusing the it for their own reasons. Bloodthirsty jackals, the whole lot of them."

Skywalker tensed, his soundless tapping stopping abruptly, his face darkening.

He was annoyed, why?

Padmé, instead of backing up his statement like she normally would, fell silent, lowered her eyes to her plate, while fiddling with her fingers, rolling her bottom lip her mouth.

Obi-Wan's brow flickered, the oddity not escaping his notice.

"Padmé, are you still with him?"

Padmé looked up, meeting her mother's eyes. "Hmm?"

"Are you two..?"

"Oh, no. No. No, I never liked him really, and definitely not that way." She smiled blandly, no doubt remembering her experience with the other senator. "And even if I did, he showed he wasn't the constant type."

It was Jobal who now made a disagreeable sound under her breath.

"Did you punch him good?" Ruwee said, leaning forward in eager hopes of violence to whoever would dare to not be constant to his daughter. "Tell me you did."

Padmé grinned, seeming a bit to satisfied to report that she had, in fact reacted with violence. "Once. And I kneed him in the groin twice."

Her father clapped his hands together, laughing in amused delight while Padmé practically beamed with pride and self-satisfaction. Even Obi-Wan felt an uncontrollable tugging on his lips at the thought of her endangering Clovis' unsuspecting manhood.

Skywalker slowly relaxed, mild amusement flicking in his eyes as his fist loosened.

Jobal clucked her tongue, shaking her head in disapproval. "You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves."

The faint hum of a vibrating device thrumming assaulted Obi-Wan's hearing the same moment Skywalker immediately reached for his comm, and immediately removed himself from the table, muttering a quick semi-apology and left.

Padmé watched him leave, something like a thoughtful look on her face.

"Your friend is very busy, isn't he?" Jobal commented with no malice or irritation in her voice, just interest.

Padmé smiled, kind of to herself. "Yeah. He has to handle all the inconveniences of being away from...work."

"What does he do?"

Padmé froze, her smile seeming stuck on her face.

"Padmé?"

"He's an...uh...heh...well..." Padmé swallowed, looking around the room while managing to avoid everyone's eyes.

Obi-Wan felt genuinely sorry for her. How do you explain that your polite, harmless friend is an assassin? An even better question, why would you be friends with such? Compassion? Deliberate ignorance? Stupidity? Unless, of course, her feelings made her overlook it.

He prayed it was compassion rather than any feelings of that sort.

"He's an...Oh, I forget what it's called." She laughed nervously, fiddling with her fingers. "I'll think of it in minute, it'll come back to me." She waved it off dismissively, quickly spearing her food with her fork and sticking it in her mouth.

"Reminds me of an experienced war general I met once. That, an some dangerous man I ran into in a dark alley and nearly killed me because he thought I'd seen something I shouldn't have, when in reality I was suddenly snatched by a group of thugs and who had more guns pointed at me than I'dev liked." Ruwee said, very matter-of-fact.

"Daddy!" Padmé looked horrified. And Obi-Wan had to admit, she did a good job looking surprised, especially when she knew how Skywalker was.

"I don't mean it that way, it's just he had a very similar air to him is all. That same look in the eyes. I know because I got a good look of his eyes while watching him from the other end of his blaster."

"I think he may be a bit...reclusive at first, but he's very nice when you get him to talk. I spoke with him bit morning actually, and he was very pleasant, when he talks." Jobal said, somehow having been blinded by Skywalker's charm. How, Obi-Wan had no idea.

"Thank you." Padmé looked pointedly at Obi-Wan, her meaning clear.

Obi-Wan raised his brows innocently.

They lapsed into a relaxed silence, the only sound audible the quiet scraping of utensils against the ceramic decorative modern platters.

In that moment, things felt right, a calm family atmosphere, far away from all problems.

A moment later, shattered.

He felt it, the way his scalp tightened and his hair raised. It wasn't particularly as unpleasant as before, now merely an intense awareness. His gaze wandered to the doorway, already knowing what he would see.

They didn't even notice him for a full five minutes, basking in the comfortable shadows of the dark entryway. Completely motionless, he watched them with icy blue eyes that didn't know how to be warm.

No.

Watched her.

It made Obi-Wan wonder how he could always be so cold, even to her, the iciness in him never evaporating even when he looked at her, and yet, his countenance was that of a different one than with others. It was as if he was an outsider to the world, and his only link to humanity was her.

Padmé must have noticed Obi-Wan's direction of interest, because she spotted him as well, a little smile lighting her face as she gestured for him to come sit.

He did, leaning off the wall and resuming his seat next to her, his unassuming action making Obi-Wan feel a sliver of unease. He didn't feel comfortable having him near Padmé at all, and Padmé's ease in his presence troubled him. By no reason he wanted her to be so trusting of him, especially since Skywalker's intentions were so unclear.

He needed to talk to her as soon as possible, in private. She needed to understand to be careful of this man, and he needed to figure out what he was up to, and somewhere where she couldn't interfere.

However, getting her away from him and him from her would be difficult task.

* * *

Unease.

It radiated from both of them so strongly it made even her feel uncomfortable. It wasn't in what they'd said, rather, it what they didn't. They wouldn't speak to each other, both apparently out-of-sorts at the others presence.

She could see it in Obi-Wan, in the detached manner he presented and in the tenseness in his shoulders. It was more than just his past worry for her, this was more than just that. This level of wariness had to be from another anxiety, and that anxiety was him.

He was no different. The feeling was mutual, she thinks, in the silent way he further detached himself form them all, there, but suddenly so much farther away.

And she was in the middle, the buffer between the two worlds, holding the two strings so they wouldn't float away like boats into the sunset.

On her right hand was one snowed over, blinkered in in a cool outer layer, but its core still remained unscathed. The change of season and the passing of time would bring sun, which would melt the snow, and all would be well.

On the other, instead of snow, there was ice, slick, sharp and dangerous, its core damaged by years of mistreatment, and under layers of obsidian, there was lava, burning hot like a volcano minutes from exploding. However, volcanic soil was the most fertile, if one could cool the lava and melt the ice, though she still always felt as though she never could get a good enough grip on it.

Could she, be the light, the warmth, the sun to melt them and bring them to harmony with her and each other?

Such is the life of mutual acquaintances, like children trying to reconcile estranged parents.

It was exceedingly difficult.

The moment she had finished helping with the dishes, working in companionable silence with her mother, simply enjoying being together again, and she had come into the sitting room, she saw them, sitting on the opposite couch, each trying to murder the other with their eyes.

Let the games begin.

 **A/N: IMPORTANT: Yeah! So, new chapter up, and happy to say, I finally went through and added page breaks. Thank god, 'cause it's ridiculously hard to try to read without them. Also make sure to let me know in the comments if missed any. Also, I just wanted to apologize for the fact that I somehow left out a FULL CHAPTER between Palpatine's death and Padmé's vacation. Chapter 17 if you wanna check it out.**

 **Yeah...for the first time in a while I don't feel very good about a chapter, and for the first time, I feel like that's okay. I may have stated some time before that I was, for a very long time, disappointed in my works. Over time I have grown to be quite happy with it, and feel more confident in it (Thanks to you guys), so instead of whining and seeking validation and praise through a whole pity party, I'll just say okay, enjoy and have done with it.**

 **xx,**

 **Fun Fact: I'm working on getting this story up on An Archive Of Our Own soon too! So you can read it in any of your favorite story platforms. (My personal favorite for any story that is not StarWars is Wattpad, and is all time tops for reading and writing, then for StarWars is (although I've read almost all in my genre's) and there is a large community of people who gave up on great stories in like 2001 (so annoying), and I'm just figuring out how to work AAOOO, so...we'll see.**

 **Christina.**


	25. XXII: Fragile Bones And Strong Hands Pt

**A/N: Exsqeeze me? Vegans have beef with this story like how? I thought they stayed away from beef?**

 _Cool_.

The mild, fresh breeze wafted inside, the pale, glowing light brightening the room, the darkness creating a womb-like affect. The room felt still and empty, quiet as though nothing resided there.

The room featured a large balcony and boasted two full glass doors, which had been left open, the sheer, silk trimmed curtains around it pulled back and puffing up under the gentle force of the breeze.

It was one of those sort of days, where the dew sat in tiny mists on the grass, and the birds hadn't yet begun singing, the days were it fogged lightly in the mornings. One of the days where one stayed contented in bed until lunchtime and felt lazy and useless all day, yet had nothing else to do.

Padmé never realized how much she missed that.

There was only one problem with that, and it was the cold. The blanket which she didn't want to move to adjust was down around her shoulders, prohibiting her from being completely comfortable. She turned away from the inflowing air, moving closer to her bed-warming companion, but found the spot empty.

Her eyes squinted open, her conscious being telling her that there was no choice but to awaken if she wanted to go back to sleep.

He was gone.

And, from the lack of remaining warmth in the bed, he'd left early.

His smell was all the remained.

Her hair slowly slid down over her shoulders, strayaways even falling down around her face, as she slowly moved, pushing herself up, while slowly blinking, her gaze immediately focusing on the window.

It stood open mysteriously, left bereft of any hint of the person who opened it.

Padmé sat there, still and unmoving for a long time.

The knock on the door across the hall startled her, making her jump, the sudden noise in an otherwise barren seeming house startling.

"Padmé?" Ah, her mother. "Padmé breakfast is ready, so come on down to eat."

Why was she knocking on Skywalker's door for her when sh - oh.

Shavit.

Padmé immediately slipped out of the bed, moving towards the door, pressing her ear against it.

Jobal muttered a quick, " _that girl_ " under her breath, before leaving, the quiet sound of her footsteps on the carpet leaving, before she heard the quiet hiss of her parent's door opening.

She waited a few seconds, careful not delay too long that her mother would walk back out, but long enough to ensure the coast was clear before she opened the door.

Sticking her head out, she checked both ways before she quickly tiptoed her way to her own room. Hastily opening the door Padmé nearly sighed aloud when her foot passed the threshold to her room.

Her mother's bedroom door opened.

Releasing a almost chocked squeal, she sprinted into the room and hit the emergency close faster than she ever had before, the door slamming close the same second her mother transitioned into the hallway.

On the other side of the room, Skywalker's door closed slowly.

Padmé breathed in deeply, suddenly jittery and exhilarated by her semi-suspicious escape.

Rubbing her hands over her face, she sighed.

What was she doing again? Oh yes, breakfast.

Padmé suddenly realized that if Skywalker was gone, then he was likely downstairs, and that since Obi-Wan/Ben similarly awakened early, they were probably downstairs.

Right now.

Alone.

With speed she didn't know she possessed, it only took her a few seconds to get ready, simply washing her face and brushing her teeth before pulling out a tan nubian style dress, as most of her dresses were, and pulling it on. She decided to go without any makeup, and split her hair into two buns, cut in the front, a style she had learned as young girl, that she could probably do without a mirror.

Nubians loved buns.

Or braids.

Or both.

With plenty of beads or flowers or shells or any other interwoven jewelry, or all of the above.

Giving herself a quick once-over, she quickly went downstairs.

It was silent as she walked towards the kitchen, where she suspected they were, seeing as they weren't to be seen anywhere else, and she could just see Obi-Wan in the kitchen.

"Morning." She smiled brightly, acutely aware of they way they were focused intently on her, attempting to ease the atmosphere with normality. "What are you two talking about?"

It was a simple, discreet, subtle way of figuring out wether or not there was any animosity in their behavior.

Ben smiled warmly back at her, despite the tenseness in his shoulders, and Skywalker, dressed in all black today, she noticed, smiled as well, but the effect it had on her was completely different. He never really smiled much, a small tug of the lips was the most she generally got out of him, but the full smile that overcame him in the most becoming way. "Nothing of consequence."

Padmé was hopelessly mesmerized.

He moved towards her and her breath caught as she became irrevocably entranced in his cerulean blue pools. It happens so fast, one moment he was on the other side of the room, the next, right in front of her. The heated surface of the mug met with her hand at the same his lips met her jaw, the contact happening so fast she stopped breathing.

"I'll be back."

She watched him leave, her brain slowly digesting what happened.

Then she did, and suddenly she felt jittery and flushed and tingly, her heart picking up an strong fast tempo in her chest.

"Ahem."

The disturbance of vibrations in the formerly still air caused her to jump, the contents in the mug rippling with her movement as she her head turned so fast her neck hurt. In that brief second she'd completely forgotten Obi-Wan existed.

" _Padmé_ ," The casual, yet careful phrasing of the words made her inwardly flinch. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Padmé such her head with so much conviction and speed she was sure that she'd have whiplash before it was over.

"I see."

 _Shavit_.

She really needed to work on her acting, unless she wanted this to turn into the biggest mess yet.

Any yet, somehow, she felt it already was.

* * *

Turmoil.

Vader never entirely knew what he was doing. He was muddled, pulled in so many directions, and he was currently lacking his brace.

Oh, Amidala, if only you hadn't been yourself, you might have died peacefully.

He never responded, choosing silence instead. No doubt, by now they wouldn't think him odd for not answering.

She'd soon learn to deal with it.

He wasn't particularly nice to be around.

He was rude.

Demanding.

Intimidating.

Short-tempered.

Vengeful.

And capable of violence the galaxy never knew existed.

Her hair was up, he noticed for the second time today with mild displeasure. Not that it wasn't nice done up, but he wanted it down. At least a little.

He wondered, if she would fight him if he carefully dismantled the entire ensemble.

He wanted to see her unbound.

Completely.

And that tight little dress she was wearing was starting to irritate him.

It was far too...rippable.

He could literally place his palm on her hip, and gather it up in his fist and just pull...

Since when had that ever been something he wanted to do?

Her lashes were so dark they looked black, framing her large doe eyes, the exact color of dark chocolate, unguarded and warm. Her skin was glowing, bright with life, her rosy lips seemingly perpetually lifted into a smile. Her un-blemished, lightly tanned skin seemed bright with happy vibrance.

How did she survive?

She was so intelligent, so quick, so cunning. A seamless actress. And gracefully seductive without even trying. A good fighter as well. He'd watched her take down quite a few men in rapid secession with skill and ease; by no means was she defenseless. But so...unguarded. Yes, when it came to physical fight he had no doubt she could hold her own, her sixth sense was strong. It was that dammed curiosity that left her vulnerable.

It was like she didn't understand how easily he could hurt her. Her intrigue, her apparent fascination with the idea of him left her so completely blindsided she didn't realize the harm that could come to her. He had already embedded himself in her personal life, pushed at the flimsy boundaries she struggled to maintain.

She was so...breakable, so enchanted by the mystery she didn't seem to see the snares.

Or maybe she did, and didn't care. Even he thought he was suspicious, but by the way she welcomed him into her life the intentional crimson flags that he displayed so openly were somehow not enough to deter her. The blood stains were dazzling to her eyes.

Vulnerability.

His hate, his love, his bed of exploits, the height of his aphrodisiacs. Vader hated how she wore it so well.

Seeing her open, unrestrained, in turns tortured and delighted him. Her unbound beauty made him dizzy and angry at the same time. He wanted to break ravage her, plunder her, break her apart and rebuild her again. He wanted to - he wanted her so much it made him ache, to destroy her and protect her, but she was just out of his reach.

He couldn't, not yet.

But every time he tried to stop, she came nearer. She let him easily harm her, and it only made it clearer to him to keep his distance.

He already had, but she didn't know it yet.

Even knowing what he was to the full extent, she'd let him touch her. He'd almost choked her then, to make her remember. Make her make him stop. Now, he wondered if he should have taken it a bit further, and never come on this dammed trip.

He wondered if she'd have denied him.

Nobody did anymore.

He could have anything.

He could ask for the galaxy and he'd eventually have it.

Except he already did.

He didn't know how to restrain himself from what he wanted anymore, though he did it all the time, but never forever. He waited, he bided his time, told himself no while he schemed how to get what he wanted.

He never knew how to let go of his rage, how to give up.

It wasn't the Jedi. It wasn't the rebels. It was the threat to the only stability he had, the same stability that to be created by him, had break him first. He never asked for any of these things to happen to him, but when he was forced to give up his life for it, he wanted to not have to fight to save himself from the shards left of him that he didn't know how to handle out of the cast.

He felt too little, he felt too much.

He'd like to say that Palpatine had no effect on him, but he knew he was messed up beyond belief. He never could be normal.

He didn't know how to stop the destruction.

He didn't know how to feel compassion for a human begging for his life.

He didn't know how to care about others.

He didn't know how to sleep more than six hours.

He didn't know what to love someone felt like.

He didn't know how to stop himself from what he wanted.

He didn't even know what he wanted.

He knew that on principal of his existence, people would be hurt.

And he knew he didn't care.

He didn't care because he had no reason to.

Anything he had ever loved was gone.

He had no inspiration in life, but the entire galaxy.

But did he want that?

He didn't think he was trying to take revenge on the galaxy for the pain it caused him, just he didn't care.

He truly was messed up.

If they could see his thoughts they'd think him psychotic.

He probably was, in one of those ways that no one truly knew for sure.

And he didn't care.

It was why Vader never allowed his eyes to soften, not even when he looked at her. Watching her objectively he was the only way he could keep her at arms length.

He felt sorry her, he really did. Yes, she did put you herself under Palpatine's radar, thus under his, but the real tragedy started not when he began to chase her, nor when he found her useful, but when he became irrevocably personally involved.

Oh, Amidala, if only you hadn't been yourself, you might have died peacefully.

But, he was just like her.

Neither of them had ever asked for this. Of course, when one's left with the riches of their efforts that they never intended to gain, you wonder if you give it up then, or do you keep it as your own?

The galaxy had been forced on him. Given like a toy to be tugged back and forth until left in pieces, and now it was truly his, he wasn't entirely sure wether that he wanted to put it back on the shelf.

But there was no other option, now was it?

Life never was fair.

 _Oh, Vader, if only you never existed_.

* * *

 _Let the games begin._

The absolute lack of sound and any positive feeling was palpable.

Padme strode in determined not seeming to notice or mind the lack of conversation in room, walking towards the Skywalker and sitting down next to him, pretending that she didn't notice the brewing situation.

"Sorry. Dishes, you know? What were you guys getting to know each other?" Another careful casual question.

"No." Skywalker's answer was quick and short, leaving her with no doubt that the possibility of them starting a conversation on their, especially a favorable one was highly unlikely.

"No? Why not?"

Turn the conversation another direction, Padmé, now.

"Huh. Anyways, before Mom went upstairs she told me that her and dad had planned to go out tonight so we can either stay here or go out for dinner tonight, whichever you guys like." She pulled her feet up on the couch as she spoke stretching out a little on her side, propping herself of with her arm.

"Really?" She didn't miss the way Kenobi's eyes narrowed infinitesimally on the space between them, or lack thereof, though his tone carried over none of his inner displeasure.

She was trying to soothe him, to show him that he had nothing to worry about.

Almost.

"Mm-hm. It's up to guys. I mean, I don't mind either way. If we stay here, though, you're going to have to cook." Her last sentence was directed at Kenobi.

Vader's brow furrowed minutely in confusion. "Why wouldn't you?"

She looked at him curiously. "Why wouldn't I what?"

"Cook."

'Oh, I can't. I'm not really good at cooking, really. Something always goes wrong. Ben's the better cook, by far."

He looked as though he didn't realize that being a bad cook was an option for a woman.

"Huh-aem, speaking of which, Ben, how long are you staying, now that you've found me alive? I'd ask you to stay a while but I know you have more important things to do other than take an impromptu vacation with us."

"Interestingly enough, I actually have some business in the neighboring area, and just paused to make see you in the meantime, and could technically just leave to go on with my business. But, for some reason, I don't like leaving you here, especially after the scare I just had. You're just too susceptible to threat."

Padmé opened her mouth to protest him calling her vulnerable and he quickly went to stop her. "And I know what you're going to say, but I know and trust my instincts, and I feel like leaving you here alone with no protection is foolhardy, please trust me I know when something's...wrong." His gaze wandered over to Skywalker just briefly, but his action spoke volumes.

"But I'm not alone. Skywalker's here with me!"

Obi-Ben rolled his lips into his mouth a moment, sucking in a breath and held it a moment reserving himself from further commenting his true thoughts. "Yes, well, nevertheless, I must further insist. I'll just stay with you two for the rest of the trip and when you are safely back home, then I can just continue what I was doing."

Skywalker made an irritated and frustrated sound in the back of his throat, quiet enough only she heard it. "That's GREAT, isn't it Skywalker?" The words she knew were very aggressive and forceful, but she needed to curb this attitude they both had to keep things under control.

Great.

Was it great? She wanted to spend more time with him, undoubtably, but the situation she was currently in was so uncomfortable that she'd rather not have to deal with it for another week. And even in her head, she felt rude to wonder if didn't he have anywhere else to be. She didn't want him to leave, just she thought it rather odd that he randomly decided to stay, as though he had nothing else to do.

And then there was the teeny part of her hat had really looked forward to a quiet week alone with Skywalker, away from all disturbances. But then again, maybe having Obi-Wan there would be what she needed to help her keep her hands to herself.

And how the hell was she supposed to remember to call him Ben for a full week?

What if she forgot?

Not that she was extremely worried about what would happen if she did, but she already knew that Skywalker was a staunch Imperialist, and a tiny slip up like that might put a huge strain on their relationship, if just by forced acknowledgment.

If in fact, he knew the name, which was highly likely.

They'd have to talk later.

"Alright, since that's settled, I guess since I had planned to take Skywalker sightseeing we should get ready to do that, and in the meantime go shopping for you since you have no clothes or toiletries."

Something was up.

But she had to get him alone to figure out what.

"Sightseeing? You've never been to Naboo, then Skywalker, or," Obi-wan paused, his tone turning thoughtful as the words passed his lips. "...is that your first name? It's very unusual."

Thank you Obi-Wan for trying to create conversation.

The polite yet violent smile that Skywalker forced onto his face was almost funny, the pathetic attempt at civility wavering on his lack of interest to even try and what little manners of conversation he had that forced him to be nice, at least in company. "Once, a few years ago."

Thank you Skywalker for making it infinitely harder.

How neatly he ducked the question.

"Really, why? Did you see much of Naboo?"

The smile on his was frozen in a exasperated line. "I had business to attend to, so I stayed only three days. I stayed in my hotel only two hours at night and the rest of my time was devoted to the care for the stationing of my...stuff. So, no, sightseeing was the last thing on my mind."

Ben sat back, amusement and curiosity evident in his face. "Stuff?"

Skywalker raised a brow.

"Stationing your stuff?"

"Yes, stuff. Things. Important things. Secret things. Thing you don't tell people. Things that I know about and only I and designated others ever will know about, things that I don't share with anyone." He gritted out between his teeth.

Padmé pretended to covered her mouth to hide her smile, rolling her lips into her mouth and widening her eyes as she forced the laugh down.

Oh dear.

"Wait...you were stationing your stuff? How do you station stuff?"Padmé joined in, the fun of aggravating him beyond what she could bear.

His eyes closed slowly, air hissing through his teeth as he inhaled, a muscle in his jaw tightening. He held it for a moment, before smiling, in that pleasant don't-karking-push-me way, opening his eyes and turning to her, the promise of his wrath displayed there.

"To station something is to put it in a certain place, or organize it's function, with the physical matter I was dealing with I dispersed stuff over a certain radius and remained only long enough to make sure that the units were running smoothly. Then I left."

Obi-Wan raised his brows. "That must be some...stuff...you've got there."

His aggravation calmed some, his smile not reaching his eyes as dangerous yet harmless words came from him as he ended the conversation. "The most impressive."

Padmé watched him with her head propped up on her hand curiously.

The curiosity was more than she almost could bear. What was this stuff? His business was so entirely mysterious that she almost couldn't handle it. She couldn't seem to guess what he was talking about. In all her months of knowing him, she hadn't yet discovered it, the riddles and hints and clues enough to inform her of its importance but not of what it was.

Of course, she had never just asked.

Something kept her from just asking.

Perhaps the fact that he never told the details willingly.

And a part of her didn't want to know.

Life was so much more fun without the consequences.

She'd probably regret that thought later.

Obi-Wan was silent a long while, seemingly thoughtful, before he shifted his focus to Padmé. "Should we go?"

* * *

Kenobi was sorely testing his patience. He tried to smother it, but all his formerly dormant temper was seconds from exploding the moment the slightest prod came his way.

A Jedi was in the same goddamned room as him and he couldn't throttle him.

Just the nerve for him to even touch Imperial soil was staggering.

Any word that could possibly come from him would send him into a rage.

Which was something he couldn't afford. Not now, not here.

He had wanted Kenobi to follow him, of course. Destroying the annoying pest that was like a constant thorn in his side would be infinitely pleasing. But because of his current situation, he was forced to allow the bastard to trump all over his, yes his, Imperial turf.

A Jedi, right under his damn nose and he could do nothing about it.

He wanted to dissect the planet from the roots. He wanted to demolish a full city. But most of all he wanted to throttle the man who had the gall to come here.

But he couldn't, not yet.

At this point, all Vader could do was remain impassive, keeping his friends close and his enemies closer.

Kenobi was not the threat, after all. He was less likely at finding out 'Skywalker's' identity than Amidala' youngest niece. His presence as merely any mild irritation because of what he was. It was his own unstable emotions that was likely to cause an issue. It he didn't let Kenobi get to him, then for now, his presence was insignificant.

He kept his face blank, his emotions calm, and his presence empty and lifeless, avoiding private conversation yet searching for it. If they weren't alone, then he had the least chance to be questioned, and someone could remind him the that wringing Kenobi's scrawny neck wasn't an option.

Kenobi seemed to be of similar conviction, though perhaps Kenobi just wanted him well away from Amidala while Vader wanted him well away from existence.

He put him to the back of his mind, roaming the city with his eyes.

Beautiful.

He knew the sights he was seeing should be classified as beautiful, but he couldn't really tell.

It was intact and green and well decorated, if that was what they meant.

The pale sky was just starting to turn faint hues of orange and purple as it neared dinner time, the clouds strewn through the skies like spun cotton. The sun was warm on his skin but not overbearing, starting to cool off a bit from earlier, as it had been much warmer.

The colorful pastel colors on the clay sculptures and the artwork on the brick buildings that lined the village like neighborhoods were consistent throughout the entire city. The standard of living was high on Naboo, the houses were generally made of large stone multi-story with decretory domes and designed for classical grandeur, with massive pillars, impressive archways, marble floors, giant windows and intricate decorations.

Greenery roamed freely around the city, overflowing their pots and porch gardens, ivy creeping along the walls and over the archways, grass peeking though the cracks of the square polished stones of the streets. More residential areas were filled with slightly smaller (for them), houses made of brick and layered over with painted clay, built into, above and around the stone walls that rose up from the ground around the streets. Since theed was layered, houses that sat a level above another was far from uncommon, the basement of a building also the side of a tall brick wall that separated it from the street.

The city was a constant marketplace, bright and full of customers like a festival, things being bargained, traded, auctioned and sold right in the street. It was like an highly sophisticated village full of rich history, yet not pretentious or condescending in the least. People talked freely in the streets, children ran playing through the alleys, no restraint or order of tedious decorum necessary. Girls sat and braided ribbons and flowers in each other's hair, while the boys filched as many sweets from the stands as possible, while the women shopped and talked and laughed, the men likewise.

Nubian culture was proudly displayed anywhere it possibly could be.

It must be nice, Vader thought, to live in such a delusional carefree nirvana dream.

But perhaps it wasn't delusional, maybe that would be reserved only for him, being what he was.

He was never meant to have nice things.

 _Fear leads to anger,_

 _Anger leads to hate,_

 _Hate leads to suffering..._

 _Which is the path to the dark side._

This, this was where she belonged. Not back on Coruscant, not back under the suffocating hold where she dangled between life and death, for her beliefs and the ones who stood against her.

It had weighed her down, taken a severe toll on her mind, until her fear became monotony. The only real purpose she served there was a voice for her people, but she'd talked herself hoarse, made herself tired and constantly worn down with the stress.

Strange, now that it was up to him to choose her future.

But here, she flourished, life seeping back into her veins, not just existing, but truly living.

She was happy here.

She was too young to handle the stress without slowly wilting but too stubborn to give up.

He should know what too much stress on a young mind could do to one. Wasn't that what had happened to him?

Palpatine had been right to keep him active lest his fragments started showing.

Being far from compassionate aside, he'd wish it for no one, despite being completely impassive to his own wounds.

He stood out from amongst them; a tall black-clothed, blond-haired blue-eyed creature.

Oddly enough, anywhere he went, he never seemed like one of them.

A whispered sigh slipped past his lips as his eyes raised to the sky, drawing his robe closer around his body as the breeze picked up further, his senses warning him of approaching rain.

Vader resisted the urge to pull up his hood, knowing the result might cause sudden panic the moment someone looked back at him.

His eyes closed as he took to a state of being, regulating his breathing to slow.

A small hand wrapped around his forearm, the action causing him to instantly focus on the perpetrator.

Amidala, who had been wandering from stand to stand to store to stand in the immediate circumference around him stood there completely unaware of his surprise, hooking her hand though his arm as though it was a normal practice, her dark gaze already focusing on the other attractions around her. "Are you hungry yet?"

"Fairly." In fact, he was more than just hungry, he was also tired, as he found shopping exhausting, and he hadn't even been shopping. The light street food he'd had earlier had been more of a snack then a meal, as well.

Some kind of meat in a little doughy-tortilla-bread wrap with sauce and cheese, if he remembered, along with some kind of soup to dip it in. Rather appetizing, if cheap.

"Oh, I'm starving. By the way, have you seen Ben? He was with me and then all the sudden he wasn't."

If only he would stay that way.

He could, of course try to use the force to find Kenobi, but he no doubt had masked his presence. The only way he'd sensed him before was because he hid it a nanosecond to late within his sensing radius which was much larger than average sensing range.

"Where is he?" She scanned the area around her for the Jedi.

"Where is who?" The aggravating voice on the person in question appeared on his other side.

"O-Ben, what happened to you? Where'd you go?"

"I was with you and I looked away for a minute and you had walked away."

Padmé had the decency to look mildly apologetic. "Sorry. Anyways, are you hungry?"

"Very. What did you have in mind?" Kenobi moved over to Padmé's other side and she immediately hooked her other arm though his. Vader quietly made a disagreeable sound in the back of his throat.

"An really nice riverside restaurant with amazing food."

"Sounds nice. Where is it?"

"About an hour away on foot, twenty-five in a speeder, but well worth it. We can get a taxi there."

"Fair to me."

She looked at him. "Is that okay with you?"

He looked into her doe eyes, full of cheerful vibrance.

Vader suddenly wondered if it was worth it to extinguish that light.

Was he that selfish?

Or was he selfless enough to free her?

She'd asked him if he thought he was better off now.

He'd said he didn't know. But he'd forgotten his own words.

Become one with what you are in, and what is out of that. Become as unmovable as a mountain, and aware of the insects under your heel. Look inside, yet let noting be removed from your sight around you. This level of awareness is required to let go, to become one with your surroundings.

Awareness in the galaxy he existed in, same in principle to all life.

And how could he be aware, if he was ignorant? He was better saved by understanding.

And yet...

And yet...

So many existed carefree, their lives not marred by the pain he knew of.

He didn't envy them, nor did he feel contempt.

He remembered snippets of his childhood, when he had been happy. It wasn't something he'd wished to take away from others, even if it was delusion.

Vader never knew happiness anymore.

Not that he was sad. Sadness was something he didn't know. Pain, but only physically. He didn't understand self-pity.

He was only neutral, or pleased, displeased, or frustrated. Filled with rage, vengeance or victory.

That was his full spectrum of feeling.

But she was not fully naive. Her eyes wouldn't dull with the burden of the galaxy, just revived. She wouldn't have his life to go through.

No, he would be selfish to hide it from her.

"Skywalker?"

His eyes, which had clouded over suddenly returned with clarity on her face.

"Lead the way."

 **A/N: Okay m'back. So...I feel like a real jerk right now. Pastelpony256 left the sweetest comment right after I updated, saying that she liked that chapter, AND HAD BEEN WORRIED THAT SOMETHING HAPPENED TO ME. I had been away that long. (I hadn't checked because it would have stressed me out).**

 **Just...IM SOWWWRY.**

 **Ahem. So...excuse list after my former sin of losing my iPad for a week.**

 **1\. My keyboard broke.**

 **2\. I am in intensive GED pre-graduation.**

 **3\. I'm a girl.**

 **4\. I'm a lazy girl.**

 **5\. I would try exploit the fact that I'm just fourteen, except I'm not anymore, and with so many super talented kids these days, that excuse doesn't work anymore. (And I had to change my username again.)**

 **6\. The depression of the fact I hadn't updated discouraged me.**

 **7\. I thought I was going back with a vengeance but instead just dug myself into a rut.**

 **8\. I had to actually scrap 4,000 words I hated and start over. Literally. From the top. Forget it all.**

 **9\. Articulating Skywalker's current tumultuous feelings is insanely difficult.**

 **10\. I have been actually making a effort on my social media.**

 **11\. I was reading other stories.**

 **12\. I thought this story out but pushed away opportunities to write.**

 **13\. And lastly, I was scared. For almost a week, I hid from updating because I hadn't in so long. I was legit nervous.**

 **Don't really know why.**

 **Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed, and I hope to see you again, actually soon.**

 **xx,**

 **Christy.**

 **Fun Fact: Jesus loves you.**

 **Word Count: 5308**


	26. XXIII: Fragile Bones And Strong Hands Pt

**A/N: 12.6K views!? Are you guys serious!?**

Stars.

They littered the skies, millions of them in the giant net that stretched around the entire planet. Linked by constellations and random design, they appeared near and far, countless and beautiful. Lying on her back, they reflected in her eyes.

The gentle waves that lapped at the boat was warm, quiet and soothing.

A cool breeze brushed over her, cooling her skin, but not uncomfortably so, fueling the waves to brush against the boat, making it rock gently. The steady rise and fall of Ben's chest and calm heartbeat lulled her, his warm and presence relaxing, her feet sitting on Skywalker's back.

The idle banter, snide but heated comments on Obi-Wan and Skywalker's side, they had kept up the good part of the afternoon had lulled, leaving them in peaceful silence.

The bottom of the boat the sat on was altered, different than the average boat, instead, designed flat on the bottom and circular, with raised sides, made for floating and lounging rather than trying to actually get somewhere. The floor was blanketed with a soft thick carpet, complete with blankets and about a dozen lounge pillows of all different shape and sizes. Lit by gentle glowing lanterns, it was a prime relaxing spot, rented constantly by people for many occasions.

The boats were able to drift off to a certain good distance, but not too far, or they'd automatically stop, powered by the direction the wind decided to push rather than with a motor. They had one, of course, underneath the water to take them back to shore, along with an anchor should they want to remain still.

They weren't alone, either. Several other boat littered the water in the general vicinity, mostly couples on a romantic dates, a ways away from the city, able to get a clear view of it and all of the lights that stood out against the black night. Lanterns people had set into water drifted between the boats and out of sight.

They had actually opted out of eating at restaurant when they saw how crowded it was, and gorged themselves in a array of street food, eating as they walked. They'd just been ordering their desserts from a nearby vendor when she'd looked back and spotted the boats and suggested they ate there.

And that's where they were now, Ben finishing off the rest of his dish whilst laying on his back, Padmé nearly full but struggling to finish at least a quarter of her cone-swirly-caramel-cookie- dessert thing (she honestly hadn't expected them to give her so much, despite knowing her stomach was about the size of baby potato. Weren't vendors notorious for their stinginess?), while using Ben as her headrest and Skywalker as her footrest, the latter having finished off his two desserts by the time it took them to cross the wide street and pay for a boat, and now lounged on his stomach, his arm hanging off into the water.

"Are you going to eat that?" The aforementioned party openly eyed said cone-swirly-caramel-cookie-thing.

Padmé stared down at it, feeling mildly overwhelmed at the amount she saw left. "I thought I could..."

Skywalker snorted. "Just like you thought you were going to finish at least half of your dinner earlier? You have the stomach capacity of a anorexic doughnut."

Padmé thew him a dirty look, taking offense at his insinuation. Nevermind that it was true. "And you eat more than shaak that's bingeing after a week on a no-carb diet."

Now it was Obi-Wan who snorted.

Skywalker held out his hand and she reluctantly gave it to him. It took him about four bites and he finished, licking his lips once, he yawning, shutting his eyes and going back to hibernation mode.

Padmé watched him with awe, boggled by his ability to inhale so much food and sweets, within a such a short time. "You eat a lot. Like a lot."

"I generally require a large amount of energy in action. I'm not used to this level of..." He glanced around, trying to find the right word. "...placidity."

Obi-Wan raised a brow, pausing between bites of his dessert. "Action as in action, or action as in extreme violence?"

Skywalker smiled lazily, the water throwing off patterns on his skin. "Violence, of course."

Padmé kicked him gently in his side, smiling fondly at his incorrigible behavior. She expected nothing less. "Be serious."

He frowned slightly, as though he considered her words as doubting, his eyes darkening to an almost cobalt color. "I _am_."

Another thought seemed to occur to him, and he easily switched subjects before she could even ingest his previous statement. "Have you realized we've actually been here a good week already? After today we only have four days left before we return to imperial center."

Though innocent of a topic enough, it was a truly discouraging thought. Only four days and her vacation was over. Her respite, her sanctuary. Padmé sighed dully. "I don't want to go back. I mean, what is there waiting for me, honestly? Until the senate is opened again, _if it ever is_ , I'd just be trapped there again. Somehow I wished we had the freedom to stay her another week."

Skywalker trailed his fingers though the water absentmindedly, and a silence descended over them before he finally spoke. "Why can't you? Like your said, there's nothing waiting for you back on Imperial center, not until I _ahem_ \- Vader calls you in. By law you're off duty until he holds a meeting and is not allowed to progress until all are assembled...so you don't actually have to go back yet."

He actually...had a point. She could just stay here...temporarily. A glimmer of hope shined in the darkness of her mind before dying out again. "No, I couldn't. I mean, what about you?"

He looked mildly startled by her address. "What about me?"

"I mean, you came here with me, and I wouldn't feel right about you having to leave on your own."

"I would. Goodbye." Obi-Wan interjected.

Padmé shook her head. "And it's probably better for me to be there. Well, probably not mentally, but politically..."

Skywalker pushed himself up, getting comfortable resting on his heels. "Politically, Queen Jamilia gave you leave. And as you haven't been away from Coruscant in about almost three years, you're entitled to a vacation. Besides, if it bothers you that much, I'll stay here with you for another week. Problem solved."

Padmé ruthlessly squashed down that persistent hope before it disappointed her. "I couldn't ask that of you. You seem to be in pretty high demand."

"Always. However, as it seems, my immediate presence isn't required at my current...facilities...they seem to be running smoothly. There's a current standstill until we are given the go-ahead...meaning, as of now, I am currently unoccupied and can handled from here, over comm. Technically I'd be doing the same thing there, only present and heading the operation, but as I said, being at a temporary pause, I can do that here."

She couldn't stop the hope rising now. "Really?"

He raised a brow at her, sharply. "I want you to know that that if they call me, I'll have to leave immediately. Don't think I'm doing this for you. I only want to forestall ending my vacation."

Padmé squealed with happiness, jumping up and throwing her arms around his shoulders and squeezing. Of course he wasn't going to be nice about it, but his graciousness, despite his detached words, spoke measures. "Thank you."

He tensed briefly at the unexpected assault on his person, before easily relaxing at her touch, surprised by her sudden display of affection and gratitude. "For now."

She squeezed tighter. "Forever."

 _"Mm-hmm."_ The cyptic response was exactly what she expected from him.

"But what about your wife?" Obi-Wan objected, the rejecting the idea of Skywalker spending more time here.

Padmé looked at Skywalker, appalled, her entire body tensing. _What wife?_

Skywalker frowned. "I don't have a wife."

Then what was Obi-Wan implying?

"Girlfriend?" Obi-Wan supplied.

"No."

"Lover?"

Padmé tightened her grip around his neck.

He wasn't allowed to have lovers.

At all. She didn't like it. The thought of another woman wrapped around his arm made her nauseous. Or wrapped around him in general. He wasn't supposed to touch other women; they weren't supposed to experience his touch or regard.

"No."

"Random once-a-year fling?"

"No."

"Memorable one-night-stand?"

Skywalker smirked triumphantly. "No."

"Friends?"

"No."

"Family."

"No."

"Distant relatives?"

"No."

"Pets." Obi-Wan was grasping at straws now.

"I have no ties at the current moment. Sorry."

Obi-Wan cursed under his breath.

"What about you? Don't you have somewhere to be?" Her blonde companion retorted, and Padmé took a moment to appreciate how good it felt to be wrapped around him. He felt warm, firm and solid, and he smelt _very_ nice. Padmé was only happy he didn't seem to notice or mind the fact that she was still holding on to him.

It wasn't fair, then, the way that he still smelled of fresh, clean male after all this time.

Padmé considered if it would be too bold of her to touch his hair and see if it really was as soft as it looked. This close, she was sorely tempted to run her fingers through his wavy locks and the smooth the tiny little baby hairs on the back of his neck.

But what about Obi-Wan? There was no way he could spend the entire time here, not _that_ long. He'd have to leave, go back to the base or wherever else he was supposed be at.

Speaking of which, she'd meant to ask about that.

And as much as she hated the thought of him leaving again, she couldn't help the tiny guilty excitement that rose over at the thought of her and Skywalker all alone again.

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps, but I might be able to postpone for a special occasion."

Inwardly she withered and leaped for joy at the same time.

Skywalker sighed. "And here I was thinking I might actually enjoy my time here."

Padmé tightened her grip again to warn him. They were not going there, not now nor ever.

Obi-Wan gave him an innocent smile. "Then my work here is done."

 _Okay, maybe they were._

"Good, you can go die now. Hell's always open."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly. You might actually enjoy yourself. Besides I don't know how to even get there."

"You're in luck. I just happen to be a professional escort with years of experience. No need to make an appointment. I'll take to hell and back and back again, free of charge."

"And you would be a professional, wouldn't you?"

"Come now, Kieo. It takes one to to know one."

"Stop." Padmé sat back abruptly, raising her hand as she tried make sense of the situation. "Stop it, both of you. You are not about to start a verbal war."

"Not to sound childish, but he started it." Obi-Wan added, snidely.

Childishly.

"You want me to finish it?" Skywalker suddenly sounded a bit more irritated.

"No one will be finished anything but me, alright? _I'm_ finishing it. The end, okay, you're done, both of you." Padmé cut in, knowing this could easily re-escalate. "Gods, I sound like my mom right now."

Skywalker sunk his teeth into the softness of his bottom lip, placid blue eyes focused watching the water off in the distance, thankfully choosing not to be difficult.

"How about this?" She attempted to ease the tension. "Let's do something fun instead of arguing senselessly?"

"Like..?"

"Well, if you go down the this street here there's a night market. If you look, you can see the lights from here."

Obi-Wan looked at where she pointed. "Another one?"

"Of course, but there's this lady who lives there, and she's super rich now, and she gives fortunes and tells the future. She used to be able to only wander around but now since she's so trusted and famous she has a whole house and is here almost all-year round. It right on the street."

Obi-Wan eyes her warily. "And?"

"We should get our fortunes told!" Padmé clapped her hands excitedly, looking at her two counterparts for their reaction.

Obi-Wan burst out laughing, splitting the absolute silence that had encompassed them after her suggestion.

Skywalker bit his tongue, his growing smile telling, looking away.

"What?"

He shook his head, silently laughing.

 _"What!?"_

Obi-Wan reigned in his humor enough to respond. "Whatever for?"

Padmé stared at him dubiously. "To find out our futures?"

"And you actually believe it's not a scam?"

Oh, so that was it. "She's not a scam. She's real. All of Naboo trusts her. She's never said anything that hasn't come true, ask anyone. She's known for her truth and has proved herself the past seventeen years." Padmé crossed her arms defensively.

"You know what? I'll prove it. I'll pay for it myself."

"You're not really going to.."

Padmé hit the button on the small console on the side, signaling that she wished to return, willing them with her eyes to challenge her.

It took them an entire hour to get to her house, the night market so fascinating with all the sights, burning torches and lanterns, foods, and shows of people with unusual talents, stopping many times she stopped to admire even while hurrying.

The fortune-teller's home had evolved quite a bit from when it was first built, from a small shanty to a luxurious but open house. Her home was right along the market, lit fully by candles and lanterns. The opening was round, a half-shell dome supported with marble pillars, with round step making it easy to enter in from all sides. There was no door, the indoors were entirely visible, a large grand room, with a fashionable _qutez_ (a cold black rock that when cracked, split into slabs of mildly uneven but still quite relative average leveling) slab tiles easily her size on the floor. At the back of the room was a double-door size entrance, but beyond that was shrouded by expensive thick curtains.

Mesmerizing.

Despite the enchanting, mysterious and magical elements of sizable the room, it was far from empty or without decorations. All around the room were different attractions, including three very large birds of decorative colors, packed with feathers of dazzling design and vibrant colors all over, especially their face. The bright poof sitting on the top of their head making them appear naturally very vain, and a beautiful fan tail of rainbow, followed by a train of two extremely long feathers trailed along. In all the four corners of the room there were large fountains, the gentle sound of the water relaxing, and was accompanied by the gentle but intriguing sound of a harp, which she quickly located as she entered coming from both sides of her.

It was enchanting, the way the orange glow of the lights casted over their features, making them almost blend into the wall, like a statue. There were five of them altogether, almost playing into the shadows, but they were very much alive. They were young women, looking much humans, save the long fairy-like ears and stripes and patterns that resembled those of a large cat, the longer than average curved nails and very long hair. Wearing silks of some shade of deep red, they were excessively adorned with golden jewelry that glinting in the light, from their nose rings to their belly rings, and the chains laced through their hair, and were each strikingly beautiful by their own right, their skin a glowing a warm orange-tan shade, their hair as black as night.

Three to her left and two to her right, the sat perched, leaning and laying on giant lounge pillows, watching them as the entered with unabashed interest, the ones playing the harp with deft fingers never missing a beat, their curiosity not distracting them in the least. They played in turn; interchangeably, and without pause, the notes overlapping to form a melody. A snake of yellow color, bigger around than her thigh wrapped around the harpist to her right's body, her head sitting demurely on the woman's shoulder as her fingers worked. There were more snakes she was sure, and there was, one slightly smaller on the tree-like structure that was probably intended for the birds, but they apparently made a compromise and stuck to the other branches. Something large and fuzzy lurked on the other side of the huge cushions that the three girls lounged on, but she couldn't quite see what.

But she knew these girls. Or she had, years ago as a child. They'd been her playmates as she ran around the streets of Theed. Padmé had been quick to befriend and was in awe of the amazing and talented young girls who were only slightly older than her, chosen and gathered to be actual pupils of the amazing fortune teller herself.

Seeing them now brought back a strong sense of nostalgia.

Padmé bowed to those on her right, smiling warmly, and greeting them with well wishes. "Esno fa. Danis vel para."

They warmly smiled back, having recognized her the moment she entered. "Danis vel para."

She turned and greeted the others in the same fashion, to which they returned in equal enthusiasm. "Danis vel para. Nāmé canza per cevab, c'nesten agi. Voleas kovo sho prhar." (Greetings. It's good to see you again, little one. You look well/happy, much grown."

They conversed only briefly, before Padmé motioned for her two counterparts to follow her, as they'd been taking in the many interesting sights.

She noticed one of the birds and skirted around to Skywalker and was now carefully and slowly approaching within a few feet, while tapping across the floor, eyeing the six-foot two black clad and cloaked man with curiosity. Skywalker looked at it with something not quite disdain, but something more like wariness he stepped around it, following her.

The bird followed after him, it's proud, decorated head bobbing as he tried to match Skywalker's stride.

Skywalker looked disturbed that it decided to pursue.

Her eye briefly caught Obi-Wan, and they shared and amused look.

Pushing past the heavy curtains, she was met with more on the other side, a thin assemble made of individual strings of beads.

And there she was.

Serenity.

What she'd give to have it.

Sitting cross legged in middle of the significantly smaller but by no means tiny room on a very large comfortable pillow, she stared directly ahead, her hand stroking the fur of a very large furry beast lying half in front of her and half on her lap with slow repetitive strokes.

She looked much older now, but no less striking, being well into her mid-thirties, she was as Padmé remembered her, the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen.

Her bone-straight thick black hair was down around her shoulders as it always was, single small bits of her tresses braided, twisted and dreaded, interwoven with small shiny jewelry, hair trinkets and breads in the same fashion as she remembered, though there were more now. There were subtle changes to her appearance, mainly in decoration. As time past, her physical decoration had grown as well, new things added to her formerly already expressive appearance, but she still kept the older things, for instance, the ruby that was above her right brow, that had been pierced permanently through her skull when she was a child, implanted by a tiny three-sided hook-like harpoon. But other thing were new, such as the added shaak-ring in her nose, leaving her with a total of three. Several bracelets and bangles of various designs and sizes hung around her delicate wrists. Even more necklaces laid against her collarbone, and large earrings stood out on her pointed ears.

Her skirts surrounded her in magnificent artistry and design, and contradiction of designs and patterns in color that should have been offensive but instead was strikingly beautiful. And as for the bodice...well...there wasn't one. The woman never had worn shirts, ever. Her chest was completely bare and visible, but her hair covered the most sensitive area of her chest. Her skin, covered in similar cat-like patterns, was also decorated with tribal tattoos, some she recognized, others that had been recently added.

When listed out, it seemed absurd, but to the eyes on an onlooker, everything about her was tastefully done.

The enlightened female never wore and manner of products on her face, and just from looking at her, you could tell why it wasn't necessary.

Her skin glowed, enviously vibrant, a color too dark to just be a tan, oozing an unusual exoticism. Her features were cutting, yet smooth, from her arched brows, to the dark lashes fringing her eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips.

There was something different about her, something about her eyes, slanting in a natural lazy and seductive look, and the distinct shape of her face that Padmé looked exactly like a woman in a pictured storybook she'd read when she was younger, a beautiful, villainous woman who had a hardened but kind heart, but put the demands of her heart and lover above the wellbeing of any others. She'd killed quite a few for her love, despite her sympathetic nature.

Not that this woman was like her in the least.

But unlike the woman in the story who was handicapped by her love, the fortune teller had only one defect, and it was physical.

The saddest thing was no matter how many times she was told that she was beautiful, she'd never know.

Her irises were a smooth gray, completely patternless. It looked almost as though someone had replaced her iris and pupil with a gray cap, her pupil completely gone. There was nothing, nothing but a pale gray circle that sat in the place of what should have been vibrant color and expression.

But somehow, despite her lack of vision, she saw beyond everyone else did, and her sense was so strong it was easy to think she could see your every move.

Those soulless-looking yet hauntingly beautiful eyes focused directly at her the moment she entered, and simultaneously the head of the creature at her feet turned to observe, revealing a giant ever-grinning mouth, and four bright red eyes.

Padmé realized with sudden clarity that the animal she had been looking at was, in fact, a Nexu.

And it was looking at her. Very intently.

A strong fissure of fear raced her spine, as well as dread as she stared into the familiar glaring eyes that had haunted her dreams quite a few times in the past.

A cold feeling settled in her heart and she paled.

She didn't have the best of histories with Nexu.

She couldn't believe that it took her so long to recognize the creature. But the one she'd seen those years ago was skinny and mangy looking, his spines sticking out distinctly against it's slim frame. This one, on the other hand, was large and furry, it's hair blending in almost the same length of the spines. She hadn't realized how skinny and starved Poggle The Lesser's was until she saw this one. His form was much more smooth, with very long fur that looked very thick and soft.

The overall appearance of it was far more sleek and healthy, though its gleaming white teeth and giant claws hidden beneath a rather thick ruff of hair were still very visible.

The creature she met in the arena had yellow teeth.

They must have cleaned them.

Padmé hadn't realized that she froze up in front of the door until she felt Obi-Wan brush past her and felt Skywalker standing behind her.

Padmé gripped his arm with surprising force, immediately backing into the security of his presence.

"He does not bite." Asai smiled, her voice husky and thick with her strong nubian accent. The bracelets on her wrist clinked as she motioned them close. "You can come closer, Padmé."

Padmé nodded tightly, the casual way Lady Kanidu used her name completely missing her as she clenched Skywalker's arm in a death grip, using him to anchor her. Deliberately sliding closer but giving it as wide a berth as she could, she slowly eased down until she was sitting cross-legged on the comfortable lough/couch/bench, dragging him down with her.

There was something stabilizing and reassuring about having his physical presence near, especially because he didn't seem bothered in the least, besides perhaps by her sudden anxiety.

She was still too close to the ground, however, feeling all to keenly the vulnerability of being on equal ground with much larger cat.

She didn't like vulnerability.

At least, not when she was the vulnerable one.

"Relax. He does not care for negative energy. If you are calm, so is he. He won't jump at you." The woman's words were calming in theory, but it still disturbed her that it was watching all of them with an intensity only felines possess.

 _That's_ what the other furry lump was in the main room.

The disturbing thought was that there might be more.

Padmé turned her focus to the her, forcing her attention to the raven-haired beauty. "Forgive me, I was startled. Is he - are they new?"

"New?" Asai's brows rose before a look of understanding passed over her face. "That's right, it has been years since you've been here. No, they're not 'new.' We rescued them about three years ago, and they were just kits then." She scratched the head of the beast, who yawned humongously before laying his head down on her lap.

Padmé flinched, but relaxed a bit when it closed it's eyes and turned away from her. "Yes, I..." She paused suddenly. "You know who I am?"

Asai laughed, showing off her pretty white teeth. "Of course. Now be a lady and introduce me to your friends."

"Oh." Padmé quickly collected herself. "Of course. This here, on my left, is Skywalker, and over here on my other side, is Ben."

"Pleasure." She shook Skywalkwer's hand before taking Obi-Wan's.

"Indeed." He kissed her hand instead of shaking it, giving her his signature charming smile.

Padmé rolled her eyes. _"Really, Ben?"_

Asai narrowed her eyes and raised a brow. Sighing, she turned back to Padmé, brightening up her face with a smile. "Are these two yours?"

"These...two...mine?" Padmé's brows furrowed briefly before she caught her meaning. "Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. I mean he's not mine, only one of them is, I mean neither of them are...we're not not like that at all. Any of that. Any of us. We're not in a relationship. Or rather, I'm not in a relationship with them."

Asai raised her brows. "Neither?"

"No. Absolutely not." Padmé's cheeks flamed.

Her, with Ben?

Yuck.

Her, with Skywalker?

Definitely not yuck, but most certainly impossible.

She was foolish for wanting what she couldn't have.

Asai, stared at her, unnervingly still before a small quietly knowing yet discreet tilt of the lips formed on her face. "I see. So, what can I do for you?"

"We've come to get our fortunes told." Padmé smiled excitedly, forgetting about the Nexu and her embarrassment for a moment.

"Ah, have you? Well-"

"Where's your ball?" Obi-Wan cut-in abruptly, looking around the room. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to interrupt, but shouldn't you be sitting behind a desk with magic snow globe thing?"

Skywalker raised his brows.

Asai stared at him, highly unimpressed. "What the hell would I do with a ball? I'm kriffing blind. And for you _caum's_ information, real fortune tellers don't use balls. If I'm supposed to be gifted to see beyond then my talent would be completely useless unless I found a round magic piece of glass. Besides, even if did use one, where the hell would I find one? What, do you think I just dig it out on the ground? Crack open a moss-covered rock? Buy it from a mysterious peddler? Find it in a treasure chest? Please." She huffed. "That's absolutely ridiculous. Anyone who tries to sell you magic balls are trying to swindle you. They put a tiny prism and sparkles in a ball and call it the 'Magic from Within' that _only_ you can see because you're ' _chosen_ ' and ' _special.'_ A true fortune teller sees with her mind. Anyone else is trying to scam you." She sounded as though she'd had personal experience with such.

Padmé was hit with the jarring thought that a real fortune teller's greatest peeve might be sketchy fortunes.

Obi-Wan blinked. "I see. What's a _caum_?"

"It's a term for outsiders, or foolish people, that literally means tourists. Basically a form of ridicule for an unknowing and assuming alien." Padmé explained delicately. "But off of that, can we get our fortunes read now?"

"You want all of your fortunes read?"

"No." Skywalker immediately objected.

"No?" Confusion clouded her. "What do you mean no? Why not?"

"No."

"Yes. I'm paying for it."

"No, you're not."

"Fine Padmé turned back to Asai. "I'm doing it. You can start whenever you wish."

"Excellent. Let's get started."

Padmé held our her hand and she took it, her palm soft, warm and smooth, her delicate yet deft and elegant fingers curving over her own, those long and beautifully maintained nails gently brushing the back of hers, the tips of the fingernails of her other hand tracing a gentle simple patterns on the back.

"What is that worries you about your future, Padmé?" She began, her soothing motions calming and relaxing, maintaining a bridge off touch, but not attempting to read her palm. In the back of her mind, Padmé recalled the girls saying that the bridge of the mind and greater power only depended on contact, not a certain design in her hand. This was only meant to put her at ease.

"Oh..." Padmé attempted to summarize all of her many worries into one, conclusive answer. "Well. That's a good question. I...I suppose you could say that I worry that every moment I spend doing something inconsequential, or not doing anything at all, other people suffer for it. And every moment I don't know what should be done, I miss the opportunity to change people's lives, and put an end to senseless bloodshed. That every second I spend stuck with the most mediocre tasks, all the people that have died because of my lack of foresight fall more in vain."

She admitted and exceptional amount in that statement, she knew, but she intended to. One of the strongest messages that she'd had drilled into her brain growing up was that acknowledging her faults was half the battle.

But somehow, knowing and acknowledging her issues didn't seem to help in the least. She was only left with pieces of a puzzle she didn't know how to put back together. So, she put them in a little baggie and stored it away, working mindlessly.

Asai's almost soulless, incredibly observant eyes stared listlessly at her. There was still something un-judgmental about her face despite her jarring pupil-less gaze.

"I wouldn't worry too much about this limbo you find seem to find yourself, and I advise you against it yourself." Padmé cocked her head. "Drastic changes await you the moment you believe you will return to your painful mode of living. And I don't mean small changes. I mean changes that will completely alter your entire future and person. The decision that you have made and the relationships you have built will all come into play, and soon. I know it seems like it's been so long that no change has happened, you've been stuck in despair, wondering when this cycle will end, and if you're wasting your life, but I promise you that this fear will be fleeting. As everything comes together you'll never be unsure of your role ever again."

Padmé leaned forward, fascinated. "Tell me about it?"

"Certainly." In her peripheral she saw and felt Skywalker stand from beside her, walking around and past Asai. She followed him with her eyes.

"A few months ago, you met someone. A man. A man you don't know much about, but a man who has been watching you for a long time, guarding you, looking after you...looking to take you." Padmé's felt an an eruption of goosebumps and shivers run over body.

Observed.

She wasn't unused to the feeling of being watched. She expected it, even. But there was a difference in thinking something, and knowing without doubt that the feeling she had all those weeks ago were valid. They hadn't confronted her. Just watched.

To take her.

What did that even mean?

To kill her? Hurt her? Something worse?

"To...take...me?" Padmé felt a strange unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"His intentions were not in your favor. Listen to me, Padmé." Her grip on Padmé's hand suddenly tightened, and her gaze intense. "Do not take what I say to you lightly. Yes, I know you weren't expecting me to send you a warning, but the more I see of your future, the more I must urge you to always, always to go with what in the best for you, and the ones around you. If you follow impulse now, you will only hurt yourself. Do you understand?"

Padme nodded seriously, and she loosened her grip, relaxing a bit.

"Good. The future that awaits you is a painful one, one that will soon be challenged with many hard situations. You will immediately be thrown into the center of action. Many blows will be thrown at you, sometimes, beyond what you think you can handle. But there will be an end, rest assured, you are just about to hit the climax. That man, the one I spoke of earlier will be the one to set into action these event, waging the final round of war."

"What...who...what does he want?"

"He was not your true enemy and he has never intended to cause you harm. It was under the rule and command of another that created such harm. But in his pursuit on his own, he will and has begun his reign that will undoubtly cause you much pain. He is not afraid to take whatever he wants, despite the consecenses, and he can not be stopped. Not by you, or anyone ( _so you can stop worrying_ ). He has power enough remain unchained. The only way he will ever change will be of his own volition. And that is nigh impossible. The only hold anyone will ever have on him will be you.

This will be your only calm place. The moment you leave you will not experience tranquility like this for a long time. However leaving is inevitable, so I wouldn't sweat it. Instead, I would caution you to brace yourself to have everything of this galaxy as you know it today rearranged. I also warn you of your own affections. Emotions are a very strong motivator for any wise or foolish action, and I see yours weakening you when it comes between him and what you believe. You are duty bound, unhealthily so, but a moment of weakness can turn things further in his favor."

Emotions? What, did she have some sort of emotional connection with this man?

Her eyes caught on the tall robed figure passing behind Asai's shoulder absently picking around all the strange tools and devices.

Although the room was significantly smaller, the real shrinking affect came from the immense clutter in the room. There was two doors on either side, and another behind her, all of them covered by the same beads curtains. It was reminiscent of a workshop, with a wrap-around wall table covered with all sorts of strange and magic things, things one might suspect a witch to have. Not to mention the small mammals and reptiles that also sat perched on almost every item, as though it was a personal mount in a museum. The same design of mystical and strange item also decorated the ceiling. The head mount of an large deer-like creature hung on the wall, and looped around it was yet another giant snake, this one completely white.

His focus was elsewhere, however. His gloved fingers traced over the surface of the desk, and she wondered if he was even listening. Her eyes traveled over his robes, wondering why his insisted to wear the night's colors.

It fit him well, she wouldn't lie. The color went well with his skin, and his persona.

But just looking at him, sometimes she thought that if she just saw his bottom half she'd think he was-

 _Stop_.

Why did she keep thinking of him? He wasn't supposed to be able to invade her mind like this, not here, and most certainly not now. That's why she was here in the first place, anyways. To escape him.

She tried to shut it out.

But it was useless. The moment she thought of Vader, her body erupted in chills. And it wasn't completely all bad.

 _What is wrong with me?_

It was those damn similarities between him and Skywalker. Reminding her and confusing her feelings. Inwardly she felt irritated. There he went again, messing up her calm physce.

It was just his clothes.

And his gloved hands.

And the silent manner in which he moved.

And quiet thirst for violence.

And the way his touch sent her body into a tailspin.

And the infinitely cold and calculating reclusive demeanor.

The more she thought about, the more her impending doom became more and more clear. There was no escape from him.

A sudden horrifying thought hit her. If she was so easily attracted to Skywalker, would Vader hold that same power over her? Could she be controlled by the same emotions that left her weak to _him?_

Her horror increased every second she thought more about it. If she reacted the same way to both of them, and knowing as she did that she fell deeper into Skywalker's trap, did that mean she was actually mentally associating them, and thus weakening her defenses for Vader? Was she just as easily susceptible to his unclear motives?

Padmé attempted to refocus on the matter at hand, trying and failing to remove her gaze from _him_ focus on something else than the tizzy her thoughts had suddenly spiraled into. "Anyways, you were saying? What emotions?"

Asai smiled at the somewhat anxious senator, deciding to calm her tumultuous feelings. "You are lucky that you will heed my advice in the near future and beyond. Your moral compass is stronger than the strongest surface in galaxy. It will cause you infinite pain in the future, but, it will be your salvation."

Skywalker's gloved fingers trailed over the smooth outer case of a small chest on the shelf.

Padmé jumped when she felt the sudden weight of a small animal on her shoulder. Slightly larger than a hamster, but of almost the exact same build save the long fluffy tail sat on her, and, stabilizing itself with one paw on the side of her head, was quickly examining the room, seeming to look for something in particular.

She instantly wanted to pet it, in awe and in love with the flighty little thing, but before she even attempt to touch, it climbed to the top her head. She froze, careful not to dislodge it.

The sorceress swore, as though she saw it happen clearly. Letting go of Padmé's hands, she went to take it from her head. "Here, let me get that."

"No, no, he's fin-" It jumped just seconds before her hands made contact, landing on Obi-Wan shoulder, very close to his face. Obi-Wan's eyes widened in surprise, as, already listening with rapt attention, had seen the small creature land on her, he still did not expect it to move to him next.

Dainty paws settled themselves on his beard and on his face, the tiny pink nose twitching incessantly as it moved against his face, it's fine whiskers brushing his face as it examined him with no amount of hesitation.

"I'm sorry about that thing." Asai grimaced, sitting back more comfortably, giving up. "One of the girls got him and a few others out of a little abandoned nest when they were babies and spoiled them senseless and now it has absolutely no sense of shame. It just jumps onto whatever it wants. You don't know how many people I've have to calm after they ran screaming and calling it a rat."

Obi-Wan gently cupped it in his hand, picking it up to examine it better, feeling it flinch lightly from the unexpected contact, but it made no move to struggle, uttering a muted squeak.

Padmé smiled, momentarily distracted, before returning her attention back to Asai.

"I wish I could say different, but you _will_ fall victim it this man. And he will ask you to stand with him, and you will. You will, for a period."

 _What?_

Obi-Wan released the creature and it went scampering off, squeaking indignantly as it did.

The quiet click of a lock click drew her attention back to Skywalker, who, with no care to the owner of the aforementioned chest, set the lock down beside it, sliding his hands against the sides and opening it.

 _Where did he get the key?_

"But that inner compass, the one I told you of, it levels your head in such situations. You will not, shall not lose yourself, never again, you will forfeit your own happiness that you have chosen with a design already set in mind. You will betray him, when he is vulnerable, and he will let you."

The sudden sharp sound of the chest closing on its own when Skywalker's hands left the box made her jump, as immersed in the story as she was. Though his back was to her, she felt _his_ temper change swiftly but to what she couldn't discern.

Padmé watched him, feeling something not quite like suspicion, but close. That was a unusual reaction when she hadn't even thought him to be looking. When she looked at Obi-Wan she noted him looking at _him_ with brows furrowed as well.

That was something she'd noticed, it wasn't what he said, it was how he reacted.

But what it _mean?_

"You shall be inconsolable at that time, and when you make your mind up to finally return to what you know, you will be tested once again, and you will give in. It seems there never will be an conclusion for you, because he will leave to place himself into further danger, that is unadvisable given his situation. He will be trapped and set to be killed, and by your hand." Asai hesitated, almost as though she wasn't sure if she should reveal this particular detail. "The agony and the pain in which I call this is...very...strong. Physically and emotionally, it will be beyond what you know. Direct and personal. I know you already struggle with copious amount of guilt, but I believe the grief in this would be much stronger, and far more focused."

She didn't understand. She was going to betray this...psychopath, and then she was going feel sorry? And what did mean? What did any of this mean?

"You will then be separated, for an agonizingly long time for both of you, in which all commotion between worlds will cease again. It will then be up to you to either fix it or break it forever, but further than that I cannot see. But I see an end that suitable to all parties, one that will ultimately end the betterment of galaxy."

Padmé opened her mouth, then closed it, pausing as she tried to articulate her feelings, her brows draw as she reattempted. "With-with him? I'll be with...the better future with...him? Is...will he be there?"

"He will. And perhaps better than ever before."

"But...but how? But...he's...what will - how will everything be fixed if he's still out there?"

Asai was amused, she could tell.

 _Well excuse me, but not all of us can look into the future and tell wether the galaxy will fall apart or not._

"It will come together, you'll see. Wether or not one or both of you will live to see it will be up to your perseverance and how far you're both willing to go for each other."

 _What?_

Previously forgotten cat still lying on Asai's lap yawned suddenly, and Padmé flinched at the reminder of such large teeth.

Padmé found herself smiling in bewilderment, knowing her cryptic and twisted future, confused, curious and boggled all in one. "This is _so_ messed up."

"In short, everything possible is going to go wrong in fast secession, then it will pause, but eventually it will flip itself back right in a hectic turn of events. You." Asai suddenly focused on Obi-Wan. "You...I saw you. Lots of you. You'll be busy. In fact, you'll be the only advocate of your kind, for her and _him._ Strange considering how much you hate each other now."

Obi-Wan's brows furrowed.

Skywalker glanced back at Asai with interest, as though something she said finally meant something to him, raising a brow before glancing at Obi-Wan. Finally he grinned, shaking his head.

What was he up to?

"But you'll be happy. In the end, you'll be happy. Your life will finish in fulfillment. All of yours will. So happy ending do happen, hmm?"

A consoling thought.

It was worth it.

Her pain was worth it.

And she'd make it out of this alive.

* * *

They were walking out the room when she stopped them one more time. Amidala had already attempted to pay the sorceress, but she had refused again, and he somehow had managed to wiggle out of getting his fortune told.

He didn't need the overly perceptive and admittedly un-fraudulent woman to spill more than he needed.

"Wait, blondie. I wanted a word with you."

Vader halted, almost out the door, slowly turning to regard the woman, feeling his companions eyes on him. His own narrowed gaze tracked the motion of her beckoning fingers.

His steps towards her were silent, and her watched with fascination as her eyes followed his motions when he crouched down in front of her.

Her visual perception without vision when a bit beyond his did I'm the force; where he could only feel the exact position of anything around him, hers rivaled that of physical vision.

Her hands reached out o touch his face, her fingers ghosting over his cheeks and jaw.

He didn't flinch.

"Make sure you don't let your dragon off its leash. You and I both may be able to see a step ahead, but don't let it make things more difficult."

She leaned in close, gripping him suddenly by his collar with more force, and he felt the gentle brush of her hair against his face and the warmth of her breath when she whispered in his ear.

"Vader."

He smiled.

She was another breed, but fell to the same power.

His amber-golden eyes lit, and he took her hand in his and kissed it. "Milady."

Vader stood, meeting the curious wide brown eyes of his conquest with oceanic blue.

"What was that?"

So inquisitive.

"Nothing."

* * *

Exhausted.

That's how she felt. Her body was ready for her bed, and the emotional tug-of-war that had been going on all around her was suddenly weighing on her.

But despite it all, she still somehow felt happy.

She was home, even if it was only for a short while, in the company of two of her best friends, even if they were not-so-subtly trying to kill each other, and she had an entire back seat filled with the days treasure, something she was not looking forward to carrying, if she was honest, being as tired as she was.

But it was one of the best days she'd ever had.

She sighed happily, gazing up at the clear sky, tightening her hold on the arms of both of her escorts. It felt rather strange, her small frame in between their taller (much taller, in Skywalker's case), far more muscular ones, yet comforting in a way, even if she felt like a human buffer.

The night air was crisp and cool, colder than she'd expected, but after an eternity of subtle hinting, a lifetime of not-so-subtle hinting, and a good while of direct conversation, she now donned in a ridiculously large black cloak of Skywalker's, as Ben had none and she hadn't thought to bring one. The material seemed coarse and rather heavy, but she found that on, it had a very nice thick, almost woolly quality. And it was indeed heavy. After putting it on, the draft of cold air that had raised gooseflesh on her exposed shoulders and back ceased immediately. However, she supposed that being it was made for Skywalker six-foot-something build, it engulfed her in a more comical than flattering way.

Or, at least, that's what the looks she garnered implied.

And as far as he was concerned, those multiple layers he wore had to help something, right? Besides, he didn't seem cold in the least.

Not as though she really could tell if he was.

Her gaze drifted ahead, to the waiting private transport ahead, dully excited at the thought of resting her feet and equally upset that she couldn't remain in the cool outdoor breeze. A sudden, offhand thought struck her. "We should go camping one day while we're here."

Letting go of Skywalker's arm, she allowed Ben to help her inside the fairly large speeder. His brows furrowed. "Camping? Whatever for?"

"It's fun." She settled into the middle on the bench seat, as she was sure neither of them wanted to be that close to each other. She was mildly grateful that the entire backseat was filled with shopping bags, so there wouldn't be the awkward choice to sit all on one side, or her on one side and them on the other (a very bad idea), or having to choose who sat next to her while the other was on the other side.

It was truly difficult.

Neither liked the other, but both were bound by her, meaning neither appreciated her being around the other, which left her in a tight spot.

She didn't want to create a competition, or give way to any exchange of smug looks or snubbed feelings, and second guess every action because she was scared that she'd be seen as picking a side, and rather than alternate, she'd done her best to avoid it altogether, and remain in between.

She only hoped the original animosity and tension would wear off soon.

It would be one on her greatest wishes that they could all get along.

Because, honestly, the tension they put off when she wasn't there to distract them made her hair stand on end.

Skywalker raised a brow at her, in a way that suggested he wanted to say something but her remained silent.

She glared at him, pulling off her heels and setting them on the transport floor.

Oh, the relief.

"It _will_ be fun."

He didn't comment, a small amused smile gracing his face.

Padmé sighed, leaning back in her seat, her eyes closing as she felt the transport begin to move. "We'll have so much fun. They'll be s'mores, and barbecue, and we can spend a night in a tent...and there'll be mountains of blankets and pillows, and we'll play truth or dare...and tell scary stories..." Her words were sluggish, sleep overcoming her quickly. "...And..."

Her voice was fading, and her head came to rest against something, a shoulder perhaps, and from the familiar heady aroma that filled her lungs, she guessed it was Skywalker.

"...and..."

She fell asleep, thoughts clouded by visions of s'mores and and ghost stories.

Truce.

Their gazes collided, cold blue on turquoise gray, unspoken agreements made in the silence.

He'd changed from the last time Vader saw him. His hair was longer and trimmed back neatly, and the lower half of his face was covered in a thick well-kept beard, making him look older and more mature.

And there was a serenity and calm that hadn't been there before, despite the way he was put on edge by his presence.

He was doing it on purpose, of course. He _wanted_ him to be uneasy, and so played harmless and indifferent, all the while carefully and subtly projecting the opposite of their sides.

There was something about each side that made the other uneasy. Clash was inevitable.

He made sure not do overdo it. He didn't want to completely smother him in the darkness, just make him uncomfortable.

No wonder he was on edge. He gave him no reason to trust him, rather, he encouraged the opposite. A silent fight was brewing and it was about to be ugly.

And now Amidala was asleep, and there was no one there to stop them.

But he wouldn't, and neither Kenobi. He would give her that, even in her sleep.

But he couldn't stop himself from irking him further, he gently stroked her hair, wishing he could fully feel the silky strand under his gloved hands.

Kenobi bristled.

He smiled. On the inside.

It took them nearly two hours to arrive back at her parents house, during which they conversed not once. It was dangerous, he knew, letting go of complete mental control, but he spent the time meditating while under the guise of a nap or more likely, a state of semi-consciousness.

The transport slowed and stopped.

They where here.

Stretching, he attempted to release the tension and tightness inside his body, feeling his bones crack and readjust, all the while careful not to wake _her_.

Before Ben could interfere, he turned, and plucked her out of the seat and into his arms, leaving him to carry in the entirety of her purchases.

 **A/N: I'm done finally omg. This was probably the hardest chapter I've ever written, but I'm so happy it's over so I can move on.**

 **xx,**

* * *

 **CEEGII.**

 **Fun Fact: I have a perpetual baby face.**

 **Word Count: 9168 (Wooh!)**


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